FEELING "YOUNG"

it's the smallest
of gestures that keep me interested,
the tiny things for which i look up.

a blue dress passing my eye, a smile
owning a room, a single ring

out of a bracelet
composed of many falling, too

cheap to clasp back on.

so you fashion it for me
into my very favorite of clichés.

the last of which who still
stands for something:

the shape of a heart.

bringing flirtations
to a recognizable halt, or enough
at least, to re-examine.

another level of how cute we are.
perhaps a small step forward?

i keep wanting to go back, and
ask you out again.

after a thousand tiny dates
of besides the point, under
the unfortunate pretense of simply

being friends.

it took away the edge, leaving assumption
and nervousness behind.

all things real
replaced pretend, so that

we might know each other
slowly.

a single sarcastic comment
at a time, one tiny truth
to hide behind, a field

who mumbles softly
of wild flowers. knowing
of it's beauty, yet afraid

of what it could possibly mean.

i enjoying being here with you, yet
intend to something about it.

LATE JULY

it's mid-afternoon
before the beaten down porch
catches enough of a breeze
to warrant company.

the honey locust clamor
from the heat and july
didn't take the time to be noticed.

i try suggesting a better spot
for the spider interested in real estate.
building condos in the only corner
flies don't vacation to, but the
translation gets lost between
the ashtray and sounds of children playing.

so the enjoyment of my july
is lemonade, the scent
of hibiscus groves from next door, and
the hope i'll fall in love
with something more than these
kinds of moments.

too few and far between
for anything less
than a brief affair.

a small, and fleeting taste
of each other's
eccentricities, like

chocolate flowers
on the finest of pastries,
melting full bloom in ones mouth,
as sweet as the finest summer day...

then gone.

so few things get under my skin. though somethings surly do. using a plant as an ashtray. or putting the milk away, without leaving enough left over for cereal. not all these things in a bad way: one of the most notable would have to be how you always combined your "shrugs with a smile," the indian name i would secretly give you if i had the time to do so. and sense you refused to apologize for a single one of your foibles, i fell in love with them one by one. but not in a comfortable way. but rather like a bandaide being pulled off so slowly that the wound was healed by the time it got there. you always wore your downfalls like a dress i'd take you to dinner in, but which you refused to wear out. i long for the day when i might see it again...commenting on how beautiful you look.

PERIPHERALS

i could understand you know,
if you told me.

how you can
try and love
a family man,

without the time to make one of your own.

the world is always going on without us,
traveling, buying cars, having children, as
proof that they exist.

you can always tell when
someone cares for you, if
they neglect to mention
caring for someone else.

TOURIST

i'm a tourist everywhere i go.

even at home
i'm always looking up.

the sky won't wait
for approval
turning from blue
to a pumpkin colored warmth
on a dime better spent

on a head tilting up
to smile.

i spent an entire season
on a mountain side,
getting to know

each tree by name,
flower by scent,
rock by shape.

i remember how it changed
the texture of my personality,

smoothing the edges
of who i was
until all confusion had left.

so with eyes closed
and arms outstretched
i too, was part of the forest's canopy.

casting shadows on unknowingness
shedding light on things to come.

WALK

stop the change
to darken streetlights up,
negotiate only once
with each type of beauty.

the air turns thick and sap like up,
with a backwards view of consumption.
a smile gets stifled in the giving...
the process of a sidewalk
mumbling softly to a shoe.

everywhere i've been gets reminded

heads turn swift on dimes
violently dropping
a sycamore from realizing
it's been paid
minimum wage. and i'm

so very sick of trying
i fail upwards,

a new promotion...with each one of my mistakes.

WHOA-ES-ME

...i guess a blog is as good of a place as any to do some simple bitching and whining. and although it feels shallow and wrong to complain considering my life, i suppose everyone needs a good vent from time to time. just as long as you readers understand i have no right doing it, being brought up right (for the most part), with an amazing family and a silver spoon so far away from my ass i had to shove it up there out of curiosity more than anything...and even then, in all honesty, i had to borrow a silver one from a friends house. with that disclaimer being said, let the bitch-ass-pouting begin...you spill the milk and i'll start the crying.
i've been having trouble as late trying to balance myself...or my thoughts for that matter. it's always been a struggle with me and is something i've grown to deal with rather than pretending it might be something that even could be fixed or cured all together. the way in which my mind works is part of who i am and i have certainly come to terms with that fact. but it's also a condition that i wouldn't wish on a snake. it's hard to describe...
my brain works fast. and when i say fast, i mean almost stupid fast. it's truly maddening at times. it won't shut up...at home, on the street, while i'm working, reading a book, listening to music, watching a movie, talking to a friend, playing the jukebox (sorry laura). IT JUST WON'T STOP. it's almost as if it doesn't belong to me to begin with...as if i could take it out and set it on the table and still be a normal person with regular thoughts and complete cognitive function. i guess i should clarify "regular thoughts" so that i don't sound like a mad man. it's not that i have irregular thoughts, or that they're dark and disturbed (excluding, of course, those blog entries which are nothing but "dark and disturbed"...they were suppose to be funny) it's just that all these things are going by at the same time at unimaginable speeds. and lately it's been getting worse...for example: when i go to talk someone new i either come across as a lobotomized freak barley able to form a complete sentence, or some mensa ridden prick on a soapbox talking down to everyone. neither one is actually me. working at the bar seems to help...trading in real conversations for quick flirtatious comments, but even then, the entire time i'm speaking consists of a completely separate and often times more clever response that would fly over the persons head if verbalized for real.
i've also recently noticed it in my poetry as well. those two extreme sides tugging at the middle. either my writing begins to rhyme (something i've never done before) or the free verse is so incredibly free it turns into a cryptic prose that sounds amazing but comes from a place so close to me...only i know what i'm talking about. here's an example.

stop the change
to darken streetlights up,
negotiate only once
with each type of beauty.

the air turns thick and sap like up,
with a backwards view of consumption.
a smile gets stifled in the giving...
the process of a sidewalk
mumbling softly to a shoe.

everywhere i've been gets reminded

heads turn swift on dimes
violently dropping
a sycamore from realizing
it's been paid
minimum wage. and i'm

so very sick of trying
i fail upwards,

a new promotion...with each one of my mistakes.

sounds great doesn't it? could you tell what the fuck i was talking about? didn't think so. anyway, i'm sure i'll figure it all out...self medicate in the garden, hide myself behind a pen or a tiny canvas. i'll find the balance the way i always do...but in the mean time...please forgive me for acting weird, talking fast or not at all. give me a hug when you see me next and i'm sure i'll be okay.

PETER PAN

...so i was watching the disney version of peter pan last night...the animated one...you know, 'cause i love watching disney movies and i don't have any friends. and i was feeling kind of down. i'm sure you've all had the feeling before from time to time, you just want to go out and collect a bunch of kittens to make you feel better. and then do something nice for them like building them a big wooden box you pant pink for them to play in out in the yard. and smile at there cuteness for a little while. and then you feel the need to put a 2-foot mettle bar right smack in of the middle of the box covered with milk and honey for the kitties to lick. and if you're like me, and feeling really motivated you step about 50 feet away, and play horseshoes until the meowing stops. anywho, it was that kind of mood. so there i was, alone in my bedroom, watching peter pan, drinking milk and i decide that i won't clap for tinker bell this time...you know...just to test it. i don't mean to burst anyone's bubble...but that bitch got up anyway. let me tell you...i was livid. and disney is going to get a pretty nasty letter from yours truly and a nice video of me playing horseshoes with the kitties. tah-tah for now....love matt.

here's a song i wrote...which isn't really special except for the fact that i've never written a full song before. bits here, pieces there...but never a full song with lyrics and everything. sorry that you can't hear it...but here are the words at least. it's called:

THE BLONDE/BRUNETTE

this ones for the blonde/brunette
i can't soon forget
the way the salt came off her skin
tastes just like the ocean

so many reasons i should leave
this towns no good for me
only one reason that i stay
it happens to be her name

and god i love your name
god i love your name
god i love your name

i remember when i first met
my favorite blonde/brunette
i couldn't help but stair
said i liked your hair

we'd eat lunch once a week
at my work we'd meet
tasting sushi on your lips
everytime we'd kiss

and god i love your name
god i love your name
god i love your name.

when love rains down
you hope it won't let up,
you hold out your heart like a paper cup.

god i love your name
god i love your name
god i love your name.

this one's for the blonde/brunette
i can't soon forget
the way the salt came off her skin
taste just like the ocean

so many reasons i should leave
this town's no good for me
only one reason that i stay
it happens to be her name.

and god i love your name.

FOR QUITE SOON I'LL BE GONE

take my heart
to the white river,

past otter creek
down the neshobie.

as my soul may breathe
through all save one, exhailing
the space for
conifer trees.

and what will become
of those rocks of mine
i've been shaping
smooth to set free?

take my heart to the white river
past otter creek, down
the neshobie.

let the places i've been
become all that i'm not
so all i have loved will be,

then take my heart
to the white river
past otter creek, to the
neshobie.