The only time I feel well

Is when I’m on my way to hell

And then I fight my way back to heaven.

Apologize

Or cause regret

I didn’t leave on the sign

I didn’t post the bind

I tried for perfect

And overshot

I have my b1

And the end is written in the little page.

The one behind me is your cross.

The one on top is the signaled rhyme.

I can get it

Next time

To write a spell

To send her back to hell

Do you the reader,

Know what I think

How many times I blink

Is that your new game

Are we the very same?

Are we able to end

The little blind whispers

Of a tainted rock

Or wandering mind

Trying to work

Instead of talk

Are you honestly my only friend in the world sometimes, and I’m always running away? How do I stop it? I think about you so often, it’s crazy  down to even the drinks I buy and the cigarettes I smoke. You call me and I don’t even hear the phone ring  I run into you, and it’s like I’m on autopilot  do you control me? Is that what the world tries to tell me? I’m stuck without you, and I can’t even seem to have faith in what either of us says anymore  I believed when I met you that I was destined to meet you, from my Journaling, my collections, the silly little games we played  I just am really stuck. I’ve been trying to listen to your last words and be there, always at the perfect time, but now I can’t find that time anymore. It’s not because I don’t love you, it’s that weird fear I have of losing you, like if I just give you up before it goes anywhere else, then somehow my own pain will stop

Should I call now? I’ve forgotten appropriateness, timing, and courtesy. I want it to be perfect but at the same time I am not, I’ve seen you in me, and yes, in a weird way it hurt me. But it makes me feel safe too to know you’re around, somehow, as horrible as you might think I am at following all the rules that now I can’t even remember.

It’s been a hard year, I just want to know where we stand. If I’m blocked right now, if we’re friends, if we can talk, if I’m still to try to move on despite that struggle… I don’t know how to get over you and because of what I felt when I would hang out with you, it’s like my body doesn’t want to as much as I want to honor your previous requests to.

I don’t want to get over you  I really don’t. It’s just that I can’t figure out how to because you’ve always been the one voice in my head I feel like, the destined voice. I feel like you want to be evil, like you want to ruin me. And that’s why I like you. Because I want to be good, to help you. And I’m going through the pain because maybe if I could last another 10-20-30 years, somehow things would become what they used to be for me. Safe inside my head. Safe curled on the couch with you. Safe away from everyone you might have had to filter out while you were doing what you gotta do. I wish I could say this verbally. I truly can’t for some reason, because maybe I’m the one trying to do good deeds to make up for a life of bad. And you sense that, feed off it, and I get addicted to the fact that you reflect, you outpour, you tell me what I wanted to hear, not what I needed. You tried to get rid of me, and that’s why I keep coming back. I’m the kind of guy that doesn’t know what to do when he’s told yes, like I haven’t deserved it, so at some point the no for me became my yes. Now I’m having a hard time telling the difference. Please, read this. A few times if you have to. That message was the only explanation I can give for why I’ve done what I’ve done. As much as I fear you for the loud voice, I shirk off the cues because I didn’t believe they were real, and judge because of my own imperfections, I really do care that you’re alright. I even wrote a letter to Chris in my journal praying he’d propose. I would do anything to see you happy again, even if it’s not with me. But all the insecure voices and blips that come out over frustration or cigarettes, I can’t handle those. The one time you came up to be intimate with me, under your breath you asked me to suicide. I don’t deserve that. I don’t need that. I try to doubt all the time it was on purpose, but since that night, I’ve lived in fear  I can’t anymore

I don’t know how to do the things you’ve asked me to do. And that means I can’t be with you  or it’ll haunt me forever. I’m sorry

Truly I love you. But I love myself too.

And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.

For a beautiful mother,

For a hardworking father,

For a grace of a sister,

For the fact that I missed her.

The reason I write,

In song and not prose,

the tempo is perfect,

for the kiss of the rows.

The graves are all hidden,

Deep in my mind,

Never killed in real life,

Just the digital kind.

I hope there’s a pause,

For a moment to act,

In continued clear tears,

and not to be lacked –

To remember my graces,

When all comes to pass,

I’ve been there, done that,

and I’ve forgotten to ask –

The heavens and earth,

Ready at the tips,

of fingers and ink,

Or the touch of the lips.

Ready as can be for a full-bodied

Flavour, the pause moves me forward–

Coffee could be saviour.

I found my shackles

I found my rhyme

that’s it

I’m fine

I can’t unclean

a demon within

I Pray nobody sees me

because I feel I can’t

but I know I can

my emotions just hide

a letter in the restarted line

I crossed inside

A mother’s life

and a father’s rhyme

Maybe this pen isn’t mine

Maybe all the things I took

are what’s drawing the line

but to stop my rhyme I untwist

and it’s up to the curse

that I have listed in the book

the things I need

but I’m unclean for some reason

it’s in the it

it’s all gonna fade

please if you are reading this

Matthew

Matthew wants his face to settle

Matthew wants to enjoy one god

Maybe the real one

Not the twisted version he might

create at times

Maybe that line was the one

I’m still alive, Praise Jesus

There was another post or two I had hidden from you. I didn’t upload it because it sang, and I had not the time to ring.

I’ll restart the blog and unclear the anger, retoast it one last time. I’ll clean the dirt and open the doors, and let it be alone.

Unfortunately, there’s nought to say, it’s just a rainy day. But in the hell I’ve been living in, I’ve learned a lot today.

I know the internet is a dark filled place, seen through challenged lights. And with a glance at the unknown, I ask it for the time.

Sadly I sit here all alone, but not wanting it to ring. I write a lot I have not sent, and wrote a lot to you. With ever a diligent thought in mind, I knew it not or through. In the depth of these libraries, the mind and the vanes, there’s blood in me I see. I know that timing’s sometimes off, and rather caught it be. I’m not a priest, I’m not a saint, but there’s gotta be an end. It’s not today, as I always say, but I need to make the bend. Wherever I go, and wherever I am, I’m home with all the mind. Perhaps you see it, perhaps you don’t, but I know that I’m probably wrong. I could actually be right, I could actually be, free is not today’s word for me. There’s got to be another. There’s always another day. That’s okay. Wistful thinking doesn’t really last, but there’s a job to do. With open eyes and open ears, the sleep evades us all – and in the dark or in the light, it’s not that safe to fall.

I’m okay. I really am, believe it or not. It’s just been a few dark years. Or less, or more. I just am very thankful to have the space, to be myself and all.

Technoverte, out.

Just gonna make a normal, business website or something. Who knows. Maybe I’ll just do my own job for a change.

Ring to promise

cheat to eat

analyze it all

walk it off

and overthink

I’m waiting for her call

I’m super stressed

I realight

timing’s off

Another brother

I do it over

and restart

Shit or pee

you can do both

they talk in days or nights insane

I walk it off or kneel and pray

there’s something else to say

before I die

and then

the knock comes thrice

as it draws

Another touch, it re-unshakes

I could actually overthink

They do ask a lot

Up or down

Stolen and given back

Thank you God you saved my life

It’s always right across the street

when there’s no time to eat I go

for a walk and a stroll

until I wonder what’s below

She or he waits at the door

smoking until there is no more

I blink or wank, talk to sink,

asking for another week

I listen to it all day long

the thunder of another wrong

my mind goes blank, and then I sin,

so one day wondering, does this begin?

One or the other, there’s really no choice,

they’re all the same, without one voice,

they tempt me in the darkest days,

the haunt me in the spots I praise

that there’s a vice or song to sing

as I let go of everything

And then

then the knock comes at the door, today

or sometime from before; from all I’ve read, or seen or heard, written

out the moment cloer

With another stroke, I hear it tink

when I cannot be bothered to think

Doer right and she does no harm,

Dover in the eleator

Casting wells and minding heals

Sour as the pourer reels

V

That’s the truth and I’ll hear it thrice, likely not but that’s advice

To no read the lyrics through

And just realign and begin a new

Rhyme or time, sink or swim

Let’s hope I continue and win

I guess I’m feeling a little old

I don’t know where my voice is nold

Through this maybe it, threw that maybe not

Am I underminding another thought?

It’s not in control, it’s got to flee

That would be the other V

Without a last and without a first

There’s a hunger, and a thirst

A wist of power, a wist of grace

There’s a lord above to save all face

Or in the hallways, through the doors,

Today’s is mine, and so be yours

1. [2:56 PM]Clearwaters: So many more innings to go…
2. [2:57 PM]Clearwaters:  you’re honestly the best virtual friend I could have sometimes, and I’m saying goodbye, at least until we chat again.
3. [2:59 PM]Clearwaters: I’m batting at bubbles.