Maybe you need it,

But then you do not,

Maybe you sew it,

But maybe is not,

A choice that we have,

In uttered or screamed,

Leaves the retorts,

And apples and bees.

Try to do it again,

If I could just ground it,

In perfect white pen.

Why are you so downcast?

Creativity is but a tempest herald away,

May we see how you see us,

As bold and brave,

Colder to the shoulder was the serpents kiss,

Blind yet seen through a reflected tune,

Simmering below a heart so yearning and cool,

Because when time stopped sound,

It resounds so loud,

To be given anew again.

And surely the when,

Of a crumpet or horn,

Would interrupt those godly thoughts,

I would bounce back into fruition, and momentarily judge,

That I have a vicious sword,

Hilted at my side,

And a light on my tips, the fingers and so

I put it down because

There’s tomorrow

Since I’m a bartender

I invented a drink:

1 shot Tennessee whiskey

1/2 shot applejack

1 teaspoon honey

Dash of lemon juice

I write in a prayer that your legacy resides, as it does, in anyone who’s had grandmothers as strong, goodwilled, and faithful as mine.

I miss you- be at peace. For there rests a hope in the sun of man, the star of an age, and the future of our people.

It’s been so long… Since we cuddled and played

And I know I miss you everyday.

I still look for you in all the places I’ve seen you,

And double take and cry when my feed pops up our photos or a video of a cat

If I could have one thing, among many,

It would be to bring you home again.

I love you dude. Happy belated birthday.

Please pray. Some days I need those little bumps to tell me, you’re home safe somewhere and well.

You are so dearly missed friend. Maybe you’re still there somewhere, I sincerely hope we cross paths again. I’ll accept any bad luck to see you.

Sorry, it’s been a rough week.

I have a lot to be thankful for but the cat meowing in the background after I wrote this from a neighbours apartment…

Maybe… Maybe you are ok.

Simple, noble, kind – and a sign for this day,

There’s too much to want,

That I should almost want nothing at all.

Sunday I go to the foodbank in the afternoon. Sometimes gigs (I’m a bartender/server), come up during the week. The weekdays I typically spend at the career centre working to find a 4th job. Sometimes I freelance on my off hours. I volunteer when I can for impoverished or homeless people. Sometimes I visit coffee shops or wander the area on nice days. I like to stay busy, but I dislike enclosed spaces quite often – I have an affinity for nature. I would play squash, work out, or enjoy art in my free time. I’m usually low on disposable income. I live in Etobicoke near the Mimico GO station. On the lake, with it in my backyard.. I’m generally quiet until I get excited and over-talk everyone lol. Sometimes little things give me a lot of stress, but I pray and meditate amongst other things. I enjoy amiability and opportunities to do good, and I collect books, try to find time to play games, roleplay, and I make a lot of phone calls to an entourage of contacts in the GTA. When I am working a lot, sometimes I lose sleep and I’m not the best with sleep hygiene because I recently lost my best friend; a cat that I barely had time to know. And when I start to write, which I do a lot, sometimes I get carried away, write poetry, or even song. I have a blog, journal frequently, and have a low tolerance for endless waiting and especially cockroaches in my apartment; lol. Although I recently bought 15 more traps and have been working to fix that. I think my landlord likely is frustrated with me, I want to move away, and I’m not great with budgeting, but God sometimes has perfect timing to save me. I’ve seen a multitude of miraculous things happen, but I’m hard on myself and enjoy a kind ear.

I sometimes go by other names, but most people call me Matt.

Chocolate

Coffee

Cigarettes

Computers

Cats

Calls

Candy

The strongest vices, coping mechanisms, and blessed curses I’ve known

Today is a good day.

Happiness is but a globe of sand,

Time stopped perfect in the remote vessel of hope,

Captured but for an hour and then flipped again,

Or rolled along until it breaks.

Asking for time might be an answer,

Asking for rhyme may be my cancer,

But I want nothing more than to live,

With the message despite the perfect breaks,

Despite the time and how it flows.

I wait on all I do,

But forever not I can’t be sure.

What perfect timing makes for you.

I don’t know how to do it. Everything reminds me of this detrimental routine and the struggling is brutal, it’s just so frustrating. I really want to quit but I’ve been doing well, although the debt problem is so real. Basically if I wasn’t drowning in debt, things would be perfect. I wish I knew how to do this by myself. It feels like I’m missing another half and the endless small successes followed by these sort of impulsive routine failures… I wish I knew how or why you quit, quit smoking, quit arguing, quit complaining… Is that just what I need to do? Those three things? Jesus… It’s these nights alone… With so much time to wait… It’s like I enjoy the misery, although I don’t. What am I supposed to do, Dad? I’m really faking it and I don’t think I’m ever going to make it if mom or Heather or anyone don’t reach out to me more than every few weeks. I know I’ve been distant my whole life but have I really hurt people so much they won’t just try to lighten up on me? It’s not like I ever chose to be sick, or fired, or single, these things just happened to me, and I’ve been fighting harder than most of the population given my hand in life. That’s what everyone else tells me. That I’m resilient, self-aware, and that I always push to bounce back after many failures or problems. I don’t exactly know why I’m writing all this but I’m tired of this particular routine in many ways, and I know the secrets and things I harbour are many not your problem, but I really … I guess I’ll try to just have faith and shut up; you probably would have said that by now. Lol… *Sigh* I’ve written so many messages before I’ve never sent. I really just want to have some forgiveness, and to hope to forgive myself. I guess I’m just writing to you because I’m trying to get help… But my whole life you’ve already done a lot and especially in the past months and I’m feeling sorry for myself and annoyed with my routine behaviours and I would like to relax and maybe take my life with a little maturity and grace, despite that I have this tendency to both run and hide. Especially behind a screen. I’m sorry for that. I’m getting better at having conversations. I’m just sitting on a time bomb and am occasionally freaking out behind closed doors or in private. I guess you’d tell me just to get on with it and do what I gotta do. The long-winded history I’m sure we’d all love to fix but maybe it’s not possible and we all have our worries. I overthink everything and then by the time I get ready to send or say something, I’ve answered myself. It would still be better to have heard it from someone else. There doesn’t seem to be many someone else’s these days. Just the same old demons. The same patterns are comforting, but they’re destroying the soul of who I’ve been. I hope this is normal. Lol. The irony is despite everything, I’m remarkably more normal than maybe you or the family thinks I am. It’s just that I’ve only being hearing it from people I’ll likely never meet. I’ve called helplines thousands of times.

Tldr; I really don’t know. I don’t know what to make of my own thoughts, I’m happy but I’m worried, and I’m doing great, bouncing back, and I guess I just like writing a lot. Lol

And I guess, I wish I had some help that I also simultaneously don’t want to ask for, because it’s truly not your problem, and I doubt I deserve it although I don’t know how to fix the problem on my own.

This is usually about the time I delete the message slowly because of aforementioned reasoning.

I sit alike at home and then, I look at what I have,

A steady job, a place to sit, a place to end pretend,

But truly though I repeat it over, as do so do they,

I guard because I’m like that type, worrying to give,

And when I line it up for them, I hope it truly works,

Why I take sometimes is confusing, and perhaps a lot of musing,

Sometimes though at about lunchtime, I have to play a part,

Because truly as a father’s son,

I know to come is to depart.

Why I have to sew this way,

Is yet not always mystery,

And in the beautiful nights alone,

I’m never truly; are we?

If I could say an honest prayer,

I know I need a lot. some cash, some friends, love or hope, and maybe something there;

It’s not like I remember this, when it comes that time,

But in the darkness of the night,

The morning is just fine – and right. And so I’ll say it over too, the people that I love could be strangers in a way, but I really have to play the game, sometimes it seems just so,

I get a laugh of the deepest depths,

Because I’m out so low,

And rounding out a time in peace,

Always brings some work,

Some jobs make money, some bring fame,

Some bring complicated things,

When some bring strange arguments and tensicity, I remember all the same – I cannot always teach you well,

I’m stuck going through this hell,

Because I spent tonight in good cheer and company, but read and heard the worst.

It’s not my way to know how to stop the play,

Which is why I cursed,

And so sorry I can be when I have nothing good to say,

I beg you please my fruitful god,

I need a good clear day.

As all the weather and breaks of glass,

Have cast a morrowed tune,

It takes about 10 hours to pause,

Before it all ensunes. As Miqoté would have me home tonight, were he still around,

My memory is great like yours, but brings daily pain abound. I suppose I could just blame the day, I had about last night,

My following is hard to tame, before I route it out. I don’t know why I ever bother, sourcrout and mount. Lol I think you know,

I’m having a great night out.

Alone and tired might be,

Fore thirty and I see,

That perfect time is always in, a perfect sort of way,

Just a song that’s sung like magic,

Someone else may pray. And hopefully my boss is right, that I am doing well,

When some jobs cost me so much to earn,

A borrowed time to learn.

Brother friend and sister too,

I suppose the day’s for you. So sadly I will must maybe stop, to do what you need to do.. my jobs not simple though it’s okay, I know my heart is through, with practicing for a play, I never fairly lose.

Cycle lich to wicked ditch, please death and taxes too, the songs of mercy and of hope, will be the through and through, if you had seen that all before, was that you already knew.

Watcher waiting contemplating – my best is all for you; whether I get it back I guess, is because I want – and wanting not is so darn hard, between each time I forgot…

That when I ramble on like this, is because something is amiss – the date the time the silver lining, and rhythms perfect wine.

I do not truly not, know why I can’t stop anything, before I get it, and that’s okay, sometimes maybe, it’s fine to pray.