Writing to a ghost inside,

A place where the hearts timer resides,

Waiting and beating patiently,

Seeing more than I can see,

Or when it bumps it up a notch,

Can you see spirits inner knocks,

Or where I lay could you make it safe,

To lay without churning instead.

And though my Cantor’s a tempo’d tune,

I report to outer moons delight.

So where promise met the evil bread,

A turn a day to inside light,

Beyond one word I never hide.

Freedom came and went,

Policed it quite all wrong,

Priest met Italy’s inner thread,

And one dear man is better said,

And then was all the little kittens,

And God met canines littered vein,

So without hiding anymore song,

I’ll say I managed it quite wrong,

Solely surely slowly good,

Will be better for the neighbourhood.

Six eight

Eight three

All the verses me?

Can I also spare another kind,

To let the spirit be?

I know you Jesus,

You do good,

You use it if we ain’t;

And your divine is something else,

Though escape it must be saint…

Thank you Lord for all your patience,

Whoever you choose to be,

I often end it up with free,

But today I just thank thee.

When I feel good, I get generous, but then I usually regret, I don’t know why I do it, but it could be to forget, or just to pass the time, or say thank you once again, to keep the ball rolling, I do it once again. I’m tired of being good, when some have done so little, and I’m tired of the chore, it takes to keep it little.

I honestly don’t know why it happens. I’m trying to hang on. Sometimes I feel so good, then it all goes wrong. And no matter what I do, I can’t seem to unrepeat, and even if I scream, or pray I do repeat. I just want it back, the gifts I’m freely given, just because she’s evil, doesn’t mean she can keep seething. I feel truly like one, voice of all the pain, was a girl I tried to give, her freedom once again. Yet she never felt it me ?, I never knew it then, and when I try to run, she twists around again. I have no outlet to unwind, lest she know it all, and me because I do it, or say it not at all. It’s seemingly impossible, to do everything at once, and I doubt the really good ones, and even a lonely vice. So what am I to do, I can’t seem to lose nor win. When I have either option, they take it all again. I guess my prayers are, that by the time I look back at this, I’ll have done what I said a little, and found a happy bliss. Or when you read it too, you’ll let old demons go, even if I haven’t, I’m not sure what else to sow. I basically do it out of habit, and even well at that, I know there is a life, outside of me as Matt.

Not to care

Not to think

Not anywhere

Not to speak evil

To wear white

To dress warm

And sleep tight

And to eat well

And brush your teeth

Ignore all vices

And underneath,

To thank the Lord

Through thick and thin

Even if you lose,

He always wins.

And to wait a minute,

Before you dash,

And save some money,

And give some cash,

And living forever,

Is not that fun,

Diamonds are best,

But gold is fun.

And kids have merit,

Elders too,

Purple seems crazy,

But so is blue.

And voices are weapons,

Crafted from tears,

And voices of fears,

Haunt for years.

And solely your wards,

Come back throughout time,

And saying it once,

Is never mind,

So just tell us it’s over,

That you’re hitting your break,

That you’ll crave it all,

For goodness’es sake

But not him

But yet her

Could be now

Maybe then

So you say it

Once or twice

So you have it

Once too nice

So you asked,

Once or more,

Once I wrote it,

Once or ignore?

Once is enough

One is two

Two is nothing

Three for you

Four is over,

Gives a lot

And then it’s there

I forgot,

And then I know,

I rush to cope,

I turn evil,

A wee bit knot,

A little prayer,

A written verse,

A timed out pace,

This universe…

Stuck with that,

So I think,

Then I begging,

Overthink.

Surely sore,

Muscles too,

Written over,

Door and through,

300 meters,

Heard it back,

It’s so old,

A panic attack,

But yet I wait,

And around this time,

And she calls it out,

Another rhyme,

When I know,

I give it happy,

When I wow, I take a nappy

Then I lengthen, out a word,

Written one more, this song absurd.

Timing comfort

Timing okay

Timing perfect

Are we okay?

I might not be,

The internet public,

I am retiring,

Banning sublick

And so I go

Home to me

Another day in

Privacy

And just so you know

Just in time

I was supplying

Afterrhyme

With one of those, I write it out again,

A little prayer, a little Zen,

A little new, a little old,

A little up, a little bold,

But not through usual means.

I find peace in rain, in games and books,

And all those little picky sooks,

Although Christmas is once a year,

I hold angels, Christ, and IT near,

And though it may not be imperfect when,

I do it or perfect, when is then –

A little boy that I once was,

Doubled, tripled, and used his sign,

And yet I know that’s a good line,

To say what can I do for you or him or her,

But tu take a moment and concur,

That life is such a fleeting song,

Whether right or whether wrong,

And broken though maybe I can be,

Maybe this is

Me

It may be only a quartz,

It may be only a pen,

It may be only a symbol,

Before it begins again,

It may just white smoke,

It may be written in,

It may be holy water,

Or something paper thin.

I don’t know what I’m asking,

Or how to fix it at any,

I don’t know what I continue,

Even when I haven’t many,

I pick them up at six,

I put them down at 2,

I’m writing out a song,

I never knew I knew,

I ask nobody here,

To take their life in jest,

I can’t rewrite rewards,

I can’t do it in a test,

I wonder what I’m thinking,

The minds become so empty,

And yet again I’m here,

With 9 to 12 too many.

I can’t figure out how to end it,

When history repeats,

I’m calling every night,

Out of my own defeat,

I wrote perfect timing down,

I sixed it out at 10, I see it’s only back,

When holy was at Sven,

And solely in just hurting,

I pray in rhyme to us,

Little little mercies,

And timings so unjest,

401 it’s now,

I can’t end the painful orders,

I’m calling for a mercy,

To help someone build borders,

I want to just speak out,

Waste them and use hers,

Stop at twenty five,

And reline the coastal words,

And build a story I could justify,

With a little howl out,

To say it’s been 3 years,

Of perfect timing doubt,

And whose words I hear all day,

In my head or ears,

Has made me stone cold soldier,

At thirty nine real years,

Of sowing weaving contempt,

Of little things I hide,

I probably made a million,

Burn in narrows wide.

Sorry that I can’t. Do the thing I can. Do the thing I ponder, or the thing too choose, do the thing to want its perfect timing blues.

It’s been like a spinner’s wheel,

A time stolen and given in to grace,

A perfect time and perfect place,

To rest beneath a seal,

And though I’ve lamented every moment,

I know that love is right,

And though I break my rules sometimes,

I can’t give into fright,

So that my body will be a symbol,

Of all that it once was,

And surely though it takes so long,

I capture one more night,

To write to anyone listening,

As I bow down to pray,

That when the timing comes and maybe goes,

There’s a hero for the day.

Aren’t you there,

Hidden your mind,

Captured and solaced,

Each day this time,

Happens when sadness,

Overtakes each night,

And when the day lightens,

Don’t let it give you that fright.

I’m stuck in this warping,

My twisting and churning,

Yet Tuesdays a Monday,

Each day that I’m learning,

My follow be light,

My heavy be fright,

My midnight a morning,

Each day and each night.

And though it gets centred,

Sometimes it doesn’t,

Sometimes I gave in,

(Sometimes truly I cave in),

Sometimes I see,

We can all be singers,

A talking I know,

And rhyming still lingers.

Is that prayer or a scream,

A dream waiting to happen,

Or something I’m buying,

Just to not let it happen?

And when I am through,

Writing in both directions,

You’ll remember my gift,

Was a name till it happens.

And this is the extra,

The prayer for you too,

To see that it’s possible,

Still to pull through.

And I’m asking for hope,

A drink and a line,

To save me one moment,

For that perfect rhyme.

And twenty minutes passed,

And I shared some laughter,

The cues went all black,

But there was hereafter,

And then I rewoke,

In this split minded place,

Realizing that,

It wasn’t a race.

And she knows it best,

I would never go back,

I’d been there more times,

Than I can remember to pack,

And don’t we all know,

It’s more than uneven,

To say I am a god-fearing man,

That gets sick of weavin’,

But today I’ve now seen,

That I am not cursed,

Just a little broken in spirit,

But I remember that verse,

Where god says to pray,

And meditate too,

On anything holy,

And that the spirits will lift,

Because of their voice,

The gift we had taken,

Was to have a choice.

And though I made more mistakes,

And wrote much of it down,

The world is spoken,

And we are all here.

Below is a mystery,

Written for us,

And though I try to deny it,

I know God is that just,

To see we’re all human,

And that we succeed,

Until we try to do that,

One thing we need.

We can’t figure it out,

We all know that we’ve tried,

But there’s nothing worth keeping,

It’s all deep inside.

And share if you will,

My story and song,

This battle was won,

Before we proved it,

In delusions and tricks,

In curses and verses.

There’s more to this life,

Than bitches and sticks.

I give you my blessing,

And offer you this,

Time wasn’t a weapon,

Just a mysterious gift.

And when I come out,

Of the place I reside,

I’ll know every good place,

To run and to hide.

Because as I’ve just said,

There’s forward and back,

Not much that we need,

And rarely we lack,

We open our door,

We may pass your good conscious,

But freaking only happens,

When you are still nauseous,

And then it was me,

Here sitting alone,

To see how much I matured,

And how much I’ve grown.

Turn the mirror around,

And rip off the silver,

If you want to survive,

You have to deliver.

The grace is that pattern,

Of eternally forward,

Until the day we rewind it,

If you can afford it.

So there’s one of the last,

Things that I’ll ponder,

Because glass is just thick sand,

And time can still wander.

Now as I write,

Here is this room,

Know Matthew’s the name,

And

I’m a Vlasblom.

God & cigarettes both.

Maybe because,

I wove them together,

And they are two

Very, if not the most,

Powerful forces on earth.

Maybe freedom comes,

When you finally mature,

And you decide to give them both

Up.

There’s so many motifs here, and I can see them hidden, but surely as I write today, I have truly given. All my good grace, my humility and praise, to the one I loved from the start, and that’s why I’m gay.

Matt

This two day jump, one day back, one day forward, then a hack. And then restart, and then unlivid, and then the future, then the divide.

And so I say, either way.

I added earth,

To my prayers, that day.