I'm not sure I'll be posting on here any more. I don't really see a reason to.

"Entwined"

-I use a style similar to Chaucer in this one. I like it a lot though. I had a lot of fun writing it.

I can’t help but believe,
Somehow, you and me,
We’re bound together,
Be it by souls or desire.
The fates have conspired,
You and I are linked
By something that surpasses
All that is physical,
That becomes tangible
When we touch.
Don’t you feel it too?
By chance, our futures
Have been twisted together
Like vines on a villa.
Intertwined, weaving
Like over the porch
Of an old sea home
Out on Long Island.
Like bodies on a bed,
Flushed with passion.
Their energies ebbing
And flowing like a tide.
Enveloping one another,
Absorbing the sweet taste
Of the most pure element;
That which links all life.

-Matt

"Save the Last Slow Dance"

-This is not my best. But here goes:

Before the night comes to a close.
All the dancers leave the floor
And I’m searching the crowd.
For that single, solitary face,
That embodiment of beauty.

My heart races with your embrace,
The music swells and we begin to turn,
Around and around, just like before.
Swaying slowly to the music,
Oh, I’m lost in your arms.

Could we forgive it all?
Put aside all the fighting,
(We fight for understanding.
Being able to forgive, shows we love.)
Just for one song, one simple medley?


The last night on earth,
When all the people start to dance,
When that slow song playing through,
All our hearts starts to sing,
Would you save the last one,
Would you save it for me?

-Matt

An Essay thing I did for School.

-This is a completely fictional story, written for my narrative essay assignment for the writing class I am in. I am very pleased with it.

"Raise Yourself"

The day I learned to stand up for myself was a cold, rainy day in November. I stood under the ramshackle, bus stop booth, scowling at the rivulets of rain dripping from its roof. From where I was, I stood no more than five blocks from my house. The trouble was, I had to walk past Terry Davies and his gang’s favorite hang-out spot in one of the maze-like alleyways created by chain-link and clapboard fencing, and ten-foot hedges. It was a wonderful spot for degenerates to collude in private, stand around, have a smoke and chatter about “who is doing who.”
I heaved a sigh as I put my headphones on, picked a song (“Puddle Splashers” by Cap’n Jazz) on my iPod and stepped off the sidewalk. My shoes made that dissatisfying “squish” noise with each step. The thin, ripped, dark green canvas of my Chuck Taylors did naught to protect my feet from the rain. I walked on, head swiveling under my hood, scanning the deserted city-path for possible ambush. My heart pounded in its bone-cage, and my toes were bitter cold as my ears strained to distinguish the sound of heavy footfalls splashing in the muddy alleys.
I rounded a corner and there, amidst a stand of trash cans and stacks of old, cardboard boxes, was Terry and his cronies. The former stood at roughly average height, with a shock of curly red hair under a black hood, his leering brown eyes caught mine as I halted in my tracks. His mouth twisted into a smile, baring yellowing teeth as he nodded in my direction.
“Hey guys, check it out. We have company.” His henchman turned to see me rooted to the spot as if my Converse All-Stars had fused to the earth. He began to lumber his husky frame past a smaller boy with a crew cut sticking out at awkward angles from underneath a New York Yankees ball cap, and a tall boy with buzzed blonde hair and a piercing in the middle of his lower lip. “What are you doing here, huh?” His voice was like ice water, cold and numbing, but placid and smooth. It had the curtly ness of a person with no remorse.
“Uh…um, I was-uh…” I stammered. My knees felt like they had rusted in place. “I was on my way home. I uh, have to go this way, because…” He was suddenly inches from me, his face close to mine. Those soulless brown eyes boring into me.
“You know this is our territory. What are you doing here?”
“I-I know it’s your territory and-OOF!” I doubled over in pain, Terry’s goons took up his flanks, grinning broadly.
“Well, guys, it looks like we have a rebel, here. I think we’re going to have to teach him a lesson, huh?” The brown haired boy and the boy with the lip piercing both jeered in approval. I struggled to catch my breath, but felt a kick at the back of my knee. I stumbled to the ground as my headphones fell in a puddle a foot or so from my left shoulder, and felt another kick in my ribs. Then another in my back. The blows kept coming, all over me. They kicked me in the chest, the back, the stomach, my legs, I was even kicked in the face once. My bottom lip swelled up, and I could taste blood between my teeth. I feared I might lose consciousness when a particularly well aimed (or lucky) blow landed on the back of my head. And then, suddenly, they stopped.
I was lifted by the front of my sweatshirt, slightly dazed. Terry’s cold, predator-like gaze shot through me like cold steel. “Next time I catch you here, we won’t be as easy on you. You get me?” I gazed at him blankly, through blurry eyes. A look of disgust crossed his face, then he spat in mine. He let go of my collar and I collapsed in a heap. As he started to leave, Terry paused a moment and turned to where my crumpled figured lay. “Oh, and by the way. If you call the cops on us, I’ll kill you.” I gasped, and a spike of pain shot through my chest as I coughed, and spat out blood. With a slight chuckle, he added, “But we won’t have to worry about that. Won’t we, coward?”
At this, hatred burned deep within my gut. It flowed like liquid metal through my veins as I forced myself to stand. “You know what, Terry?” I choked. The bullies turned, nearly taken aback by my sudden speech. “I did nothing to deserve this. I am not going to stand for this, anymore. I am tired of being prey all the time.”
“That’s brave talk from such a weak little, bastard.” His words were like gasoline to my contempt. It raged inside me now, an inferno of disdain. Regardless, I stared him down. “Do we have to give a second lesson this evening?”
I snorted reproachfully. “I am above your petty violence. Though I make take the brunt of your beatings, words will always have more power than any cudgel. I shall not lower myself to your level. I would be no better than a bully for doing so.”
Terry’s face was contorted into a look of pure bewilderment and confusion. I was now numb to the pain that racked my body, as I took a step forward, towards my attackers. I thought of nothing but walking through my front door, of dry socks and a hot shower. As I reached them, I expected more blows, but there were none. Terry’s expression of confusion turned to defeat, as he finally comprehended he no longer mastered my fear. The boy with the hat lowered his head, and the one with the lip piercing scowled at me. But I remained unharmed as I passed them.
I walked home, head held high. A sense of victory and pride swelled within me. I never had the capacity to believe I could stand up to Terry Davies and his gang. For the longest time, I had thought his reign over me would last until I went away for college (and had an excuse to run away). I stripped off my soggy socks and a thought struck me. I realized it was true that I didn’t need to stoop to violence, as I feared I would need to. I felt a thousand times more triumphant knowing I had bested him by being the better person.

"I've Been Dreaming"

-I think I'll make them into song lyrics for a mostly instrumental song. It would be fun. :]

At night, I lay in sleep as if,
you were there with me.
And I've been dreaming,
'bout the end of the world.
About nuclear war.
And I've been dreaming about you.

"This Morning"

-I'm pretty satisfied with this one. Although, I think the first stanza is the weakest part.

Dawn breaks over me
and I wake from a dream.
In which I chased you
all the way to St. Louis.
And in a grove of green
I did lift you off your feet.
We cradled one another
In the fading, golden eve.
Then you did whisper to me,
"With every fiber of my being."

Sunlight pierces through the blinds.
Open wide my weary eyes.
and I listen for a moment
as the radiator hums along
with the sound of the new dawn.
Weakly rattling in vain
to keep this tired morning soul
protected from retreating cold.
Then I welcome the sun
smiling through my window.

This is where I remember,
when the light-giver's rays
touch my skin so gently,
Your presence like the surf
at dawn breaking on the beach,
how it washes over me.
I recall the curves of your body,
so simple, yet sublime.
Your bronze skin, alive with light.
Chasing shadows away
With but the shine of your eyes.

This morning, I miss you.

"I'll Be There"

The rain pounds the windows,
makes them weepy with the drops.
And my heart is like this beach house,
empty, but for the things I could save:
Newspapers, some old books, the letters you wrote.

I look out at the churning sea,
and mutter, "Neptune must be angry,"
Then I wonder if you'll ever,
come walking back through my door.
God, I'd love to see those eyes again.

Lean against the glass,
feel the cold against my skin.
I sigh, the window greys with fog.
Trace the letters of your name,
In the cloud of condensation.

This is all I can do for now.
I could write it all down,
but I can't find a way
that doesn't lack purpose,
to tell you that I love you.

But even if you came around,
and I let you in again, would you stay?
Would you stay and let me know,
all the things I never knew?
Take me to places, I could never go?

I'll let you stay here with me,
lay your head on my chest, get some sleep.
You're so weary dear, it's time to rest.
No need to fear, sleepless nights again.
I'll be there, I'll be there.

-Herm...I'm kind of iffy on this one. I've been wanting to write something for hours, but I'm not satisfied with it. It loses its luster after the second stanza (or somewhere around there).

"Late Night Laundry"

He sways to the music,
As he’s folding his clothes,
And he’s thinking of things,
He may never get to know.
Like where he is and,
Where he wants to go.

His friend is on the floor,
Headphones on his head.
Humming along with,
Some unheard song.
The room is stuffy,
Even with the window open.

And he saw your picture
Pixelated on his screen.
“Hey you, blue eyes.”
Smiles back at the photograph.
Sighs with regrets and,
Folds a pair of socks.

-Agh...I wanted to add more to this, but I couldn't find the words. I might be trying to hard to tie it all together coherently instead of just rambling. I'd like to, but it'd all come out in a confusing mess. I don't think I'd find anything to say even if I could. I want to understand what's going on around me and not be left here to assume and build my hopes up, only to have them toppled down. Blech...I'm tired...

-Matt

"A Soliloquy"

The start of a chuckle,
escapes into the room,
where white-lined paper,
coats the cold floor,
like a carpet made of words,
lines, letters, sentences and phrases.
A pile of pencils, all broken;
The pens no longer work.
"So this is what you want, huh?
Break your own heart upon the floor,
steer your own vessel into ground?
Hah! Do not blame me.
I wasn't asleep at the wheel.
Write it down! Write it-"
Hand freezes over dead quills.
"Oh..."
Paper cuts coat his fingers.
"Piece it back together,
but it won't be the same.
Pretend to let me go.
Lie to yourself, you will,
until you believe it's true."
Picks a picture from the papers,
"Oh dear, your face still haunts me.
And I've become that ghoul,
emerging from the shadows,
to seize your heart.
Reach through your breast,
where my fingers feel cold,
grip your life-center and squeeze.
But when you look,
it will be your your own face, you see.
Not me!"
A whisper, hoarse and haunting.
"Oh sweetie, what a love you gave me,
without trust, you hid your feelings!"
He shouts to the ceiling:
"Oh, how I gave you everything!
And woe, why do I believe,
You are something extraordinary?
How do I manage to believe,
You are strong and the girl I see?"
He laughs,
"What a lie I have concocted!
The foolish ideal, that she and me,
are destined to be!
Yet still I believe!"
With that, sinks to his knees.
"And yet I love you.
Like a sweet, sweet melody,
singing me to sleep.
Oh, Troubled Beauty,
Don't you love me?
Dearest, can you return in time?"
A tear.

-This isn't even really a poem. I guess that's why I titled it "A Soliloquy." It's kind of melodramatic I guess. :\

I don't even have a title for this piece of crap.

I woke up early again,
This time, on accident.
I had a dream again.
I watched the sky,
And the stars began to spin,
And then I saw a UFO.

I'm so tired lately.
I’m not sure why.
You’re in all my dreams.
It that what it is?
Can you let me sleep?
Can we forget each other,
So I won’t have to feel,
Like a jerk when I,
Say something stupid?
So sick of hurting you.
Just forget me.
I wish we’d fall again,
But it’s not likely.
The times I wish you, were gone,
Are the times I wish, you had stayed.

-I really don't like it.

I do like these, however:

"I Feel Like Going Home" by Yo La Tengo lyrics

He calls me to the ocean
Takes me wandering through the street
A restless imagination
But for now, I move my feet on the ground
'Cause I feel like going home

I can float above the ceiling
I like drifting through the air
I tend to lose my concentration
But right now, the cries don't appeal to me
I feel like going home

Sometimes late at night
While runnin' from the rain
Running from the voices
Filling up my brain
Now I wish they'd leave me alone
And let me be
To grow up on my own
Let me be to go home
I feel like going home

"My Asthma, Miasma! (The Cigarettes She Smoked As a Teen to Ease Her Stress)"

By himself he sits,
on the bleachers' steel,
He wants to run with them,
the kids all caught up,
in their game of tag;
capture the flag.

He closes his eyes,
smoke curls in his mind.
Twisting like grey snakes,
from his mother's fingers.

Asthma, inhaler,
the things she gave him,
a childhood hindered by,
lungs too weak to breathe.
"Did you think of me,
when you were sixteen?"
He asks the breeze.

"Why couldn't you quit,
before you were addicted?"

-Matt

This one was fun to write. It's about a kid who got asthma because his mother was a smoker. He's wondering what it'd be like if she hadn't. If she had quit. Instead of letting her self-destructive behavior get the best of her. Cigarettes and alcohol don't make people stronger...They just kill them faster.

Worst. Halloween. EVER.

I was supposed to go to Rocky Horror Picture Show at Higher Ground with some friends. I show up, Christine tells me that they're checking for IDs and the show is 18+ (I knew this already, but I figured they'd let me in). So I agreed for me to wait until the show was over to hang out. So I called up Ashley, to see if she could hang out. She was trick-or-treating, but going home soon. So I while I waited for her to get home, I went and got a vanilla latte from Starbucks. However, when I returned to my car, I discovered I had locked my keys in the ignition. It took me an hour and a half to get a coat hanger (with the help of all the security guards at Higher Ground and the merch guy for Lotus). I got my keys, by then it was too late to see Ashley, so I waited a little more. I drove around Burlington for a bit, but concluded I absolutely hate driving there. So I went home. I stopped in Montpelier to see if anything was going on or if anyone I knew was out. There was something going on at the Langdon Street Cafe, but it was too late for me to do anything. So I finally went home.

I guess it could have been worse.

-Matt

"A Heart I Scribbled on a Sheet of Paper"

Are you so eager to die,
That you'd fill your lungs with smoke?
Don't try to tell me you've got nothing to live for.
'Cause darling that's one hell of a lie, right there.

I could be the best kind of therapy.
Speaking metaphorically,
Tell you vaguely what you need to do.
Just to get you thinking.

I won't be a shrink, just a best friend,
asking questions
like: "Who do you want to be?
Can't have all thirteen personalities.
One or more must contradict somewhere."

And I was proud to be your lover.
Because it felt good, felt right.

-Matt

Yeah. This thing is just kind of a random rambling thing that came out.

"Yours Is the Name I Love to Write"

Short and kind of silly poem I wrote in my journal:

"My heart burned,
As you curled up,
on your hands and knees.
Fighting back the tears.
God, how I wished,
to press my lips to yours.
Take your hand, hold it tight,
and tell you everything,
will be alright.
And now I consider,
if I should have.
What would you have done,
if I had?"

-Matt

In other news:

I'm working on a comic strip. The actual illustrations are probably going to be crappy, but the writing will more than make up for it, hopefully. I'm really excited to get it done.

I also finished writing a song last night. I'm not going to put up the lyrics until it's recorded and the rest of the instruments have been added. I'm super stoked on it, and I can't wait to hear it when it's done. I've got all these awesome things I want to do with it. But I'm going to keep everyone in suspense about it (except for those who help me work on it, or witness the actual recording/finishing process) because I'm cruel like that. It will also sound a lot better when you don't know what to expect. :]

And that's all for now.

"Our Time" and Some Lyrics I Really Like.

Don’t let your love die.
Let it burn, let is spark inside.
Perhaps, our time is then,
Not now, and maybe when it comes,
Can we let love surge again?
Will there be another chance?
I can’t go on, believing,
The little slips of paper,
In the fortune cookies that I get with,
My General Tsao’s and Wonton Soup.
“Today is the day you,
Let it go. Your chance will come.”
So you’re telling me,
If I set you free, then,
Will that day come when,
I can lay in your grace?
My heart wants to say “Yes.”
I watch the brown and yellow leaves,
Strewn across the road, dancing,
In the wake of the trucks and cars.
And there’s a cold and hollow emptiness,
Somewhere inside my chest,
And a ringing silence where,
Your voice once sung, so long ago.
My ears can’t take it anymore,
My head splits apart, trying,
Not to hear those words again:
“I love you, Matt. I always have, I always will.”
Maybe they’re words that work like duct tape.
So it doesn’t sting so bad when,
I try to reassemble myself again.
Hoping blindly that one day,
Our time may come again.

-Matt

John Samson is also an incredible songwriter.

"Left & Leaving" by The Weakerthans lyrics:

My city's still breathing (but barely it's true)
through buildings gone missing like teeth.
The sidewalks are watching me think about you,
sparkled with broken glass.
I'm back with scars to show.
Back with the streets I know
Will never take me anywhere but here.
The stain in the carpet, this drink in my hand,
the strangers whose faces I know.
We meet here for our dress-rehearsal to say " I wanted it this way"
Wait for the year to drown.
Spring forward, fall back down.
I'm trying not to wonder where you are.
All this time lingers, undefined.
Someone choose who's left and who's leaving.
Memory will rust and erode into lists of all that you gave me:
a blanket, some matches, this pain in my chest,
the best parts of Lonely, duct-tape and soldered wires,
new words for old desires,
and every birthday card I threw away.
I wait in 4/4 time.
Count yellow highway lines that you're relying on to lead you home.

"...And He Started Singing:"

So is this the change you think you felt?
And I have to ask, do you like it?
You put your past loves up on a shelf.
So you can try to forget.
All the hearts that you have broken.
But this time love, I'm sorry,
I won't let you leave so easily.

I gave you love like you've never known.
Like you've always wanted.
But when the time came to take me home,
You said, "I'm so sorry dear,
I just don't know if I can handle this,
so please don't stay here,"
But I don't want to go.
Don't make me go.

I thought that I could give you,
a simple life, like that of an artist.
Live by a lake, or a pasture full of horses.
Or maybe a coastal home, by the ocean.
We could have it all in arm's reach.
Just collapse into me. Darling, please.
I know you're tired.

-Something I started singing on the way home. I liked it. So I wrote it down. It's a shame really. It's too late for it to really have any power. All that is contained in this song is gone now. There's nothing left but severed threads swaying listlessly in the breeze. Struggling in vain to reconnect to what has completely released itself from them. The reasons for the strain and inevitable snapping of the threads are completely lost in translation. The rope will say: "It was too heavy," while the weight says: "The rope was not strong enough."

Words like the ones contained in this song are useless now. They are not strong enough to reconnect that which has been broken.

I should be a fucking philosopher.

-Matt

"Gravity, a Constant"

I've been dreaming of,
Floating out in space.
Just an object in the vacuum.
Great blackness swallow me up.

I could embrace the day,
when gravity gives up.
And my feet leave the ground.
I'm tired of all the fighting.

I can't keep this up.
Can't keep running at this pace.
Trying to save the tattered pieces.
Sew them back together.

With all the words I,
Never knew, and never could use.
I'm saying all that I can.
But my lungs won't let me breathe.

It doesn't matter what I say,
I could read the dictionary aloud,
And we wouldn't change a bit.
It's too late to try again.

And now I'm repeating,
like a broken record, stuck,
on a single phrase,
that hidden meaning, oh so clear.

All we had is lost,
And you don't want to look,
For even the smallest bit,
of the time we spent together.

Did my rocket ship,
fly too close to the sun?
Caught fire, exploded, mid-mission.
Leave me stranded in orbit?

Gravity can't bring me down,
I could fall like a shooting star
Streak of fire in your sky.
But you won't wish for it.

-My dreams haven't been about space actually. But the rest closer to the truth.

"Late Nights and Matinees"

I really want to tell you to, fuck off sometimes,
for all those times you didn't listen,
but that wouldn't get me anywhere, now would it?

I'm so tired of all the yelling,
and all the screaming I'm not doing.
All this rediculousness is making me sick.

Do you remember,
quiet nights with tired smiles,
tiny whispers in the lamplight?

Now the moon is bright and silver,
all the buildings throwing shadows on the street,
It's cold tonight and this jacket just won't cut it.

As I crossed the street, looking both ways,
I'm wondering what you've been thinking,
Pondering the thoughts that might have crossed your mind.

If you were so eager, to escape in the first place,
then maybe I'm a fool to talk it out with you.
Yeah, say you'll hear me out, you'll only hear "Commitment..."

The crowd gasps, "Oh no! Anything but that!"
And the people flee in flocks from the theatre.
You backed out the doors when you didn't want it anymore.

I really want to tell you, to open your eyes sometimes.
Realize there's more to life than living in fear.
You've got to have something to believe in, I hoped it was me.

-Yeah.

"Snow"+"Basement Rock"

I think about you,
when the snowflakes fall,
large and wet,
collecting on the plum tree's branches,
outside my window.

Melting on my tongue,
this snowflake tastes like you.
Sweet.

And the blanket, Mother Nature made,
out of white,
wraps me up, so soft and warm.
I miss your body heat.
I wasn't afraid of being cold.

-Matt

Ironically, I'm in a really pissy mood today, yet I wrote this poem.

Edit- A song I wrote:

"Basement Rock"

I hate the weather,
Skies always gray,
We ran out of alcohol,
An hour or two ago.
I never liked the taste.

We’re bored as hell,
Trying to drive,
Towards the horizon,
Just to get away.
To leave this place.

It’s no good trying,
To wind the hours down,
Until the sun next comes around,
In basements across town.
Singing with the sound.

Of basement rock.

I wonder if it'd be,
Any better in the city.
With all the light,
Sounds and people,
Living like machines.

Another sip of coffee,
Crack the window,
Let the fresh air in.
This is one way to live:
As if we were dead.

It’s no good trying,
To wind the hours down,
Until the sun next comes around,
In basements across town.
Singing with the sound.

Of basement rock.

Ramblings.

Autumn seems so melancholy. Everything is withering away, the skies are almost always gray, it's raining and cold, or just cold. I never used to see it like that. I loved the fall. The miasma of colours, piles of leaves to jump into and it isn't too hot or too extremely cold. But this fall, I am rather pensive and moody. That goes without saying, due to recent events. But more so, I have been reflective, particularly this weekend. I've been thinking a lot about last fall, and remembering all the things I have been through. I remember movie nights, snuggled comfortably inside a sleeping bag with her, looking through old photographs and home videos. I remember a night out in a boat, under the stars and the words, "I never want this to end," drifting to my ears. I remember dancing, a chilly night out in a soccer field with the constellations burning brightly above us. I remember lazy mornings when I'd wake upon her couch, wrapped in a thick comforter. I remember how innocent our time spent together was. Most of all, I remember being exactly where I wanted to be. I miss it all. Then I get to thinking, "Is this where she really wants to be? Did she ever feel like she was exactly where she wanted?" I cannot say.
I've just been burning myself out thinking about this. There's nothing I can do. If she doesn't want to listen to me and turn her cheek to the truth, then it's her loss. I can give her one last chance if she really wants to take it, but she doesn't. So what's the use of fighting for something that is utterly unattainable? This is not where I want to be. We do not need to be here. I just wish she felt the same way. I don't think it would do any good to try and work it out with her anyways. She won't listen. She doesn't want to hear what I have to say. She doesn't want to try and make it work. And then, after all she's done to me recently, does she really deserve to be my friend?

I guess it's only appropriate to feel bummed in such a dismal season.

-Matt

Woosh.

The Gogol Bordello concert was freaking off the wall. The band that opened for them was this weird, post-rock meets reggae, meets thrash/experimental metal. The crowd went absolutely fucknuts when Gogol Bordello played. Everyone was pushing, shoving, jumping, yelling, there were mosh pits, and it was great. All except for a couple people lighting up in the middle of the crowd (one dude was like, three feet away from Ryan and I). The crowd got so into it. It was awesome. Definitely one of, if not the best, concert I have ever been to.

Yay.

<3
Matt

"Cigarette"

You're your own worst enemy,
yeah, you know this so well,
as you choke down the smoke,
that slithers down your throat.
The chemicals, they ebb and flow,
they're killing you, oh so slow.
Tossing the butt to the ground,
you give no thought to the sound,
of the water, where you'll drown.
It's rushing up to greet you,
so tell me love, sink or swim?
This cigarette, it speaks,
it says: "Smoke me, and feel free,
But you'll soon succumb to me.
I'll put you in the ground,
If you don't put me down."
So am I a cigarette?
The more you breathe of me,
you choke, cough and wheeze?
You spit up the blood and phlegm,
from that black, smoker's lung.
All I tried to be was,
The cure for your cancer.

-Just playing around with rhyme, rhythm, and metaphor.

"Don't Leave the Pages Blank"

Take my arm,
and I'll help you stand.
It'd be a whole other story,
already partially written,
just waiting for you,
if you would take my hand.

I could take you,
so far from here.
Am I not all you want?
Then what do you desire?
I could help you fly,
just look me in the eyes.

Tell me, love,
that it isn't better,
when you've got arms,
to wrap you up,
hold you when you're cold,
and lift you if you fall.

-I don't really like this one. I needed to get that out, but it felt more forced than anything else. Bleh. Fuck.

OH MY GOD! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Kitty and I finally got some studio time. We wrote a song.

You can find it here. It's called "Honey Lip Balm."

I also got to record an acoustic song I wrote. ^.^ I'm going to put lyrics to it as soon as I've found something that works.

<3 All,
Matt

"You Don't Have to Go/Song of Hurt"

Quiet your tired voice, love,
just drop the angry words,
sing your songs of hurt,
this all just a mistake,
you made up more than you could take,
now you're searching for a way,
frantically seeking an escape.
But I know why you feel so guilty,
part of you still loves me,
I can feel it, breathing,
it's exhaling so weakly,
I dare you to kiss me,
and feel it in your knees.
You heart is shouting so quietly,
"Please, Sarah, this is so silly,
All you got to do is believe,
You know what he can be,
he might be everything you need.
How come you're scared to see?"
You're wrestling your feelings,
"He said words that hurt me.
He doesn't understand these things!
He was never listening!"
"He held you when you cried,
Give him credit, at least he tried.
It's not his fault he was handed an easy life.
Do you really think he hurt you?
Do you really think he's cruel?
And it isn't like he never apologized."
What's keeping you from seeing truth?
Do you regret the things you do?
You don't have to go.
Just so you know.

-I'm not sure if these would fit to the song I've already written. I can give it a shot, but I don't think so.

I'm also on my way to knowing "Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls on guitar, and "The Luckiest" by Ben Folds on piano. I started figuring the latter out by ear, but concluded I needed the sheet music. So I got it. I'm super freaking excited.

"Misinterpret Until You Ruin It"

I've been made the villain,
of your misinterpretation.
So now you run away,
from something I didn't say.
(I didn't mean it like that.)

I wrote a song to apologize,
Too bad you won't hear it.
The notes will hit your ear,
the lyrics and such, you'll hear.
(You won't hear my heart beating.)

Rest your head upon my chest,
Like the Sunday mornings filled with anime.
And then we'd kiss, basking in the rays.
Of spring sunlight in the window.

Not again, however.
You lost your nerve, lost your temper.
Yeah I fucked up,
But this time round, I don't think,
The second chances, are yours to give.

-Eh. Not my best.

Cursive owns your face (And your children.):

"Some Red Handed Sleight of Hand" lyrics:

And now we proudly present,
songs perverse and songs of lament,
a couple hymns of confession,
songs that recognize our sick obsessions.
Sing along-I'm on the ugly organ.
Sing along-I'm on the ugly organ. So let's begin.
It's no use to keep a secret,
'cause everything I hide ends up in the lyrics,
So read on-then accuse me when you're done,
If it sounds like I did you wrong.

Our father, who art in heaven,
save me from the wreck I'm about to drown in,
didn't I learn anything,
counting all my sins on rosary beads?
The reverend plays on the ugly organ,
he spews out his sweet and salty sermon,
on the audience.

So why do I think I'm any different?

I've been making money off my indifference
We all pass the hat around,
this is my body, this is blood I found,
On my hands, after I wrote this album.
Play it off as a stigmata for crossover fans,
Some red-handed sleight of hand.

-Hell yeah.

"Forever In A Song"

Now I'm caught on stage,
Singing songs to stay alive,
pouring out my heart,
Into this microphone.

My voice is gone,
Breath just a breeze,
and with every line,
it gets a little harder to breathe.

And just when I think
I'm gonna pass out,
the song comes to an end,
and my guitar's the only sound.

There used to be, a thousand ways,
to take your breath away,
and I knew each and every one.
I thought I could live forever, inside a song.

You always thought that I,
Would say things just to hurt you,
Maybe I should just sing instead of speak,
You don't want to hear what I have to say.

I could right a million words,
but I'm still just a wayward troubadour,
clumsily stumbling on, writing songs,
No one will ever hear.

Without an audience, my dear,
I'm just a sad, sappy, love poet,
haphazard, spewing some stanzas,
maybe just love, and some verses.

There used to be a thousand ways,
to take your breath away,
and I knew each and every one.
I thought I could live forever, in a song.

To think that I believed,
It'd just be you and me,
On lonely nights by the sea,
Where you would listen to me sing.

But you just turn and leave.
Unwilling to give a second chance & see,
If it was all just misunderstanding.
You're screaming "How could you do this to me?"

Maybe you could have said to me,
"Wait, what is it that you mean?"
"Why would you say that to me?"
And this is where we shouldn't be.

There used to be a thousand ways,
to take your breath away,
and I knew each and every one.
I thought I could live forever, in a song.

You know, You'll live forever,
Inside my songs.
My voice will live on.
Singing life into your legacy.
Far after you and I are gone.

-A song I wrote. I'm going to add music to it. As soon as I can.

"Coward"

Put words in my mouth,
Make me the enemy,
'cause I tried to be,
who you wanted me to be.

And now it seems,
that was wasted energy,
'cause you just leave.
And now you hate me.

It's always about you,
It was never me, the victim,
I had to tiptoe around,
all your quirks and scars.

And I tried,
I wanted you,
I wanted the life we had.
The life we could have had.

Now you hide,
behind typed text,
you fucking coward.
Hide behind your mask.

I'm not afraid of you,
or your friends.
I haven't done anything,
wrong.

You made me up,
who you think I am.
I am not a bad guy.
I'm getting victimized.

Shit on me some more.
Because I wasn't good enough.
I wasn't asking you
to come back.

I was trying,
to be your friend.
Just a simple,
"Want to go?"

Not an "I want you back."
No, "Oh, please don't go,"
I would only get lost,
If I chased after you.

Yet somehow,
I'm still the villain.
The sex never mattered.
No matter what you think.

At least I have the dignity.
Not to shit all over you,
for hurting me.
At least I can forgive you for it.

-Matt

"Fight Me"

I’m on a forward bound train,
Going nowhere,
And there you are.
Once again.
Inside my dreams.
(Why won’t you leave?
You don’t want me.)
I reach my hand to touch,
Your golden hair.
I pull you close to me,
Feel the smoothness of your cheek,
Feel the power of those,
Blue, blue eyes.
And you say to me:
“I’ve decided to stop,
Fighting you.”
This won’t do.
“Fight me,”
And our lips meet.
Then I wake up.
The room is filled with sun.
And I just want to run.
Drive so far away,
You never have to see my face.
Maybe then,
We can forget.

-I think this one sucks.

"Little Dancer"

Little dancer,
moves so smooth,
limbs twist and wind,
so gently.

I watch your face,
as you get lost,
the music carries you off,
makes you fly.

Lips curve in a smile,
Eyes closed,
you let your body sing,
let your heart breathe.

You're beautiful, you are,
And I never saw you,
never saw you as your scars,
I see a little dancer.

Little dancer,
Oh, let your heart sing,
and I'll hear it in my dreams,
and see you moving.
I'm always dreaming...

-I've been wanting to write this poem for a long time. Like, months. But every time the thought came, it was soon forgotten. But I got it down this time. And this is what came out. I like it. I want to make it a song. That's kind of the way I wrote it, so I could.

Oh, and here's a drawing I did today:

"Spin"

Spin round,
Stop again,
and I can't forget you,
and everything you are.
But these scenes and memories,
they just won't leave.
Oh, won't you stay?
I find it hard to believe.
Maybe one day,
You'll realize what you lost.
'cause baby, I'm the best you got.
Or so it seems.
And I know you're afraid,
but we can't give up today.
Don't give up,
you could lose it all.
Everything you want.

-My writing's still shitty. Oh, fuck damnit.

"All The Same" by the Sick Puppies

"One More Time"

He shakes and shivers,
As the dust around him settles,
Shaken, broken,
He stands, alive.

Full of lust,
But looking for love,
He’s afraid to give his all,
One more time.

He tried so hard,
To help her love herself,
But she’s still a scared,
Sad and angry little girl.

She catches fire,
Leaving her naked frame,
In fear and spite.
As he clings to a shred of hope.

She just won’t leave him,
And her smile struck,
Bewilderment,
My god, she’s gorgeous.

Maybe he was brave,
Or just plain foolish,
To stand up to her fury,
But he raised his voice.

Begged to be heard out,
Despite all his doubts.
But what did it help?
Just made it worse.

-I fuck everything up. I really don't want to. I'll probably always be a self-pitying idiot. I don't really want to be.

I don't know what to title this particular entry.

But I wrote a song tonight. No lyrics. It doesn't need any, I think. It speaks far better, than I ever could. I played it for an audience of stars. I played it for her as well. I don't know if she heard it or not. Maybe I'll put lyrics to it someday. But for now, I'll let it sing for itself. That's the way it should be, I think.

-Matt

"Foot In Mouth Syndrome"

Guitar pick in his teeth,
he gazes at a sheet,
of line white paper,
scribbling words, occasionally.

His heart races,
head starts to swim,
his guilt won't leave him,
wishing he could stop the fight.

But no matter what,
he manages to piss her off.
She's on a tear again,
tearing up her memories of him.

He's slowly giving up,
wants to be done making assumptions,
no more allegations,
'cause all the blame's on him.

And his stupidity.
Wasn't thinking clearly,
now it bites him in the ass,
as he swallows his shoes.

Even if she wanted to try,
all the wounds wouldn't be undone,
they can only attempt,
to forgive and start again.

Or sever the bond,
break the connection,
fall to pieces...
and come back...
together again...

-This poem's pretty much about how much I hate having the uncanny knack for saying stupid shit. Especially when I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about. You know, I'm going to destroy that damnable tendency. I will grind it into the ground if I can.

I'm pretty angry with myself. If you haven't noticed.

"The Surprise"

He pulled into her drive way just as dusk fell. Turned the engine off, paused his mp3 player, and exited the vehicle. He moved swiftly through the coming dark, up the step in front of the kitchen window, to the front door. He knocked as loud as he could, to be heard over the music in the kitchen. It paused. He heard footsteps coming to the door. It opened. A girl stood on the threshold. Captivating, and beautiful, she stood, surprise marked her face.
“Hi…” she said.
“I have something to show you.”
She stood, not quite comprehending. “Okay…where?”
“Put your shoes on and I’ll show you,” he smiled.
She slowly put on her shoes and returned to the threshold of the doorway. He grabbed her wrist and half pulled, half led her to his car. “Where are we going?” A hint of unease trailed on her voice.
“I already told you, I have something to show you. Don’t worry about it,” he smiled as wide as he could as he started the car.
He drove for slightly over an hour, arriving in a town only somewhat familiar to him. He’d been there once with her before. Under the stars, they had kissed. Lovers, chasing one another in the dark. The sun had just nestled behind the mountains, tucked in for sleep.
He parked and they disembarked from the station wagon. “Come with me,” he said.
“Okay.”
She followed. “Remember the night we came out here with your aunt and uncle?”
“Yeah. What about it?”
“Remember how the stars were all out, and it was just the two of us in the middle of that soccer field?”
“Yes.”
“Well, last time, there wasn’t a meteor shower,” he paused and moved his gaze from her eyes, to the sky. “Look,” he said gently.
Streaks of silver arced across the indigo sky above them. First a few, then more, and more. It appeared as if the heavens were falling to the earth. Still, more and more silvery strands lined the night sky above them.
“I love meteor showers,” she whispered. He watched her, bemused. Imbued with joy, seeing her features light up. Her wonderful eyes sparkled like diamonds. Then she turned to him, and collapsed into his arms. He stroked her soft, golden hair. “This is amazing…”
He touched her cheek, lifting her gaze. He looked long and deep into her turquoise irises. He was reminded of all the time they had spent together. Passion welled in him, and overflowed. He kissed her. He summoned all the passion and love for the girl in his arms he could, and put it into the single, simple act. Wishing for nothing more than for time to stop. For this kiss to last and last.
She stood, kissing him back. Melting in his embrace. Safety washed over her. She leaned further and further into him, as if to meld with his being. She remembered the first time he had kissed her. Her surprise, as his lips quickly grazed hers. Not a lustful, forceful kiss. But an honest, careful one. She remembered admiring his boldness. Now, she fell yet more in love with this boy.

-Jesus, I've done a ton of writing tonight. Well, this has been a ton for me...This and the most recent three poems.

"Queen of Swords"

I locked blades with the Queen of Swords,
But this battle isn't over.
We collapse, exhausted, on the killing field.
I watch as you limp away.
Expecting to be cut down, the taste of steel.
Wishing for embrace.
I don't want to fight you anymore.
Lay down my weapons, clattering.
Fall to my knees, unable to support,
The weight of my heavy heart.

I know I can't take them back,
the words that I've said.
Thrust, parry, locked in combat.
But I don't want to say them anymore.

-I'm no knight.

"Burning"

I've got these words,
that I want to say,
just sitting, burning in my brain.
But what good will they do?
Would you believe me if I told you?
Would they change anything at all?
The cards have been stacked up, and begin to fall.

You never thought I listened.
So why would you listen to me now?
I want to save this, and I think I know how.
But I'm not so sure you'd want to try.
To try and work to keep it alive.
You make me believe you're more apt to run away,
Than to try to change yourself, and stay.
"People change," you said to me.
But it seems, I've done all the changing.
Adapting, molding, to slide into your curves.
Yet you remain concrete, budging only slightly, not a stir.

-Matt

"Past, Present, Future"

You can't keep living in the past,
'cause it could come back,
and wake you in the night,
shivering, cold and scared.

Like those days in Middle School,
when the girls would tease you,
and the older boys would look,
up and down your frame with lust in their eyes.

Oh, you can't keep believing in days,
when your heart was smashed,
and good friends have gone away,
'cause here you have a boy,
who loves you, but he's not perfect.

And there might be some future there,
but are you too afraid to try?
he could be everything you want,
but it might just take some time.

He stands, willing and ready,
to change, to chisel away.
To take bad and good, be satisfied,
with just being in love.

-Matt

Yes.

I am completely obsessed with this song right now...

"Black Balloon" by the Goo Goo Dolls

Baby's black balloon makes her fly
I almost fell into that hole in your life
And you're not thinking about tomorrow
'Cause you were the same as me
But on your knees

A thousand other boys could never reach you
How could I have been the one
I saw the world spin beneath you
And scatter like ice from the spoon
That was your womb

Comin' down the world turned over
And angels fall without you there
And I go on as you get colder
Or are you someone's prayer

You know the lies they always told you
And the love you never knew
What's the things they never showed you
That swallowed the light from the sun
Inside your room

Comin' down the world turned over
And angels fall without you there
And I go on as you get colder
Or are you someone's prayer

And there's no time left for losin'
When you stand they fall

Comin' down the world turned over
And angels fall without you there
And I go on as you get colder

All because I'm
Comin' down the years turn over
And angels fall without you there
And I'll go and lead you home and
All because I'm
All because I'm
And I'll become
What you became to me

(lyrics courtesy of www.sing365.com)

-Yeah.

"Alright"

Let it rain,
for forty days,
until the mountains
have been washed away,

I can see my breath,
in the pale moonlight,
and the world is wet,
from all the rain...

And I look at the moon,
She says to me:
"It'll be alright, my child.
It'll be alright."

I felt the earth spin,
then I was back again.
But it all seemed so surreal,
like I'm standing and dreaming.

I'd rather fight the sunrise,
but my body aches,
and my eyes are tired.
Sleep is calling me.

But should I dream,
It'd be of you,
my angel with battered,
broken, black wings.

-I just noticed how this one had a sort of wave pattern to the stanzas. The lines start short, are longest in the middle, then return to about the same length at the end. I thought that was pretty nifty.

"Tiny Bird"

As you spread your wings, tiny bird,
Do you think about returning?
Talons release your perch,
You take flight into capricious winds.

On the ground, there watches a boy,
He sees you take to the sky,
Mesmerized by the sun,
Glinting off your ebon wings.

In a breeze, whispering through the trees,
His words are carried away,
As he blows a kiss into the wind.
Fly safe, tiny bird, find your way home.


-Matt

"Autumn"

It was a clear, warm autumn evening, and the sun was starting to set. The sky was bright, robin’s egg blue, and the leaves were starting to change colours. Falling all across the town green. On this particular day, the town green and the streets around it (normally a bustling intersection), were blocked off by a motley assortment of barricades and concession stands. A makeshift stage, and a tent above it decorated the green, along with a gazebo, and the ever present “Naked Man.”
He stood amongst the crowds, in the street, wandering from one group to another, talking, joking, reminiscing. His newly blonde hair hung from his head in a shaggy mop, nearly reaching past his chin in the back. As he talked, and scanned the crowds and the faces of his friends, his hazel eyes twinkled slightly. Caught in the myriad of people and the miasma of fried food, he began to forget his minor troubles, the things that were bothering him. Or so he had though, until the appearance of an old wound showed up.
She was a girl. One who he’d had a crush on, who turned away from him. She had hurt him before, and she missed out on her chance. Her boyfriend was not the best to her, for this he carried a great distaste for the boy. Despite her martial status, he fancied wooing her that night, but never really undertook the venture to any serious length. It was up to her anyways.
Then, the moment of the night came. Fireworks. The colours burned into the night, light up the sky, and the reports sounded through the air. Oh, it was lovely. He was mesmerized by the explosions in the sky, hearing music in his head, appropriate to his mood at the time. From where he was standing--on the roof of the bank on the corner--he could clearly see over the buildings in front of him. He felt a strange mix of liveliness and sorrow. His wounds mostly healed, but the fear still there.
What this night meant in particular however, was something altogether different. Not the ending of something, but the beginning. It was the setting for a fleeting and chance meeting of two souls. The boy, and a girl. A new girl who he had never seen before. But the moment he met her brilliant blue eyes, something, somewhere, fell into place.
She was beautiful. She wore a silly get up, comprised of baggy black pants, with bondage straps and too many zippers to count. Her hair, a dirty shade of blonde, was up in a small bun, with the bangs tucked behind her small ears. She had a wonderful almond-shaped face, a pointed nose and pink lips. Her face reminded him of a fairytale creature. Something that was too delicate to be real. Though he only saw her for a few moments, and spoke with her only briefly, he adored her smile almost immediately. It was sincere and sweet. Her already bright eyes would light up and her face would soften.
They parted, but kept in contact while she went away. Yet she crept into his thoughts whenever he was just thinking. Her face reappeared now and again. Those eyes, that smile, the almond-shaped face. He remembered the way she walked, careful, with grace, carrying her form with an air of confidence, but her facial expression was distant and troubled. Still, he did not know what lie ahead for him. Where he went, he never would have expected.

-Uhm...yeah. Just a little thing I wrote. I want to do something a bit more out of my ordinary. So I might have another pretty soon.

Nighty night,
Matt

Whoa. Dude...

So, I feel like an actual musician.

I'm learning how to read music right now, as the first thing we do in Music Theory. But now that I can, and I also know the sequence in which the notes go on a treble clef (the clef used by a guitar). I can figure out notes on a guitar. Well, not all of them. Just the majors for now. But! With this newfound ability, I figured something I think is a Latino chord progression. It sounds pretty awesome. Danceable maybe, if I played it smoother, and made some breakdowns or bridges. More fills would be nice too.

Anywho, I'm reveling in my step towards being an official musician. (In my mind.)

-Matt

"Certainty. Certainly."

Maybe I was blinded,
By the light in your eyes.
Oh, blue, and brilliant,
They shine, they shine.
(Falling, faster now.)

Maybe I was sung to sleep,
By the sound of your voice.
Oh, soft and sweet,
It floats, it floats.
(Lift me, higher now.)

Maybe one day I can comprehend,
To complexity of your soul,
Oh, so scarred and dark,
Frightening, frightening.
(Fighting the fear.)

Maybe one day,
We can collapse to rest,
Oh, in each other’s arms,
Love me, love me.
(Hope, lift me higher.)

Maybe what you need,
Is to hate me, if it would make you happy.
Oh, I’m not pushing you away,
No, not now, not now.
(Welcome, friend, uncertainty.)

Maybe, these small words,
Mean what they mean, but not to you.
Oh, not from my mouth.
I love you, I love you.
(Certainty. Certainly.)

-Bleeeeh...school starts tomorrow...er...what is today now. x_x

Hehe, Ryan, Cody and I shot off a shitload of fireworks today. We had almost eighty dollars worth of them. It was so freaking awesome.

-Matt

"Meteor"

Twelve thirty comes,
And I watch the stars fall.
Make a wish, to see your face,
Hold the image steady,
For as long as I can.

Is that what you are?
Made, to shine bright,
But burn up in the atmosphere,
Before you touch the ground?
Surely it must be dizzying.

Even so, my shooting star,
I want to catch you.
Spread my arms and catch you.
And be the sun to your moon.
To your plants and your trees.

I watch the night,
As the slightest bit of alcohol,
And the meteor shower
Flow through my veins,
And make my head swim slightly.

-I saw the meteor shower last night. It was awesome.

:]

"Starlight"

Standing out your front door,
Upon looking up,
I saw the Milky Way above me.

I exclaimed to myself,
stopped by the pale white,
stretch of stars,
arcing across the sky.

I wished you could see it too,
but I thought it best,
to let you rest.
How I longed to rest.

And there, looking up,
I felt so alive, felt to right.
Watching the stars explode,
across the sky.

"The Quiet Moments"

Quite, in the candlelight,
Trying hard, not to let,
eyes close in rest.
We lay close,
Limbs entwined.

I love the quiet moments,
where we just breathe.
Where we're just still,
letting each other's
energy graze across our skin.

And I can feel you breathing,
count your heart beats.
Don't need to take it further.
Don't always need to either.

"Hunger" -Continued

The two made their way down the stairs. Aeron mused, smiling to himself, as he watched the graceful figure move gently down the seemingly endless steps. He admired the gentle curve of her shoulders, as they met the nape of her neck. The skin of which was tanned to an almost bronze colour. Her bright blonde hair stood in stark contrast to the darkened skin. She made such a wondrous creature to behold.
They made it to the ground floor, and passed through the aging, revolving doors in the lobby. Outside, the city was alive with the nightlife. The streetlights blazed, neon signs burned into the night, and the headlights of the cars created a myriad of lights and sounds. One could almost drown in it.
If one did not first notice the phantasm of lights and sounds, it was the smells. Innumerable scents and aromas tickled the nose and piqued curiosities. Kai giggled, as she took a deep whiff of the night air. “Mmhmm…I smell…I smell…Chinese food.”
“Well, there’s a Chinese place practically around the corner.”
“So I discovered this afternoon,” she replied with a smile.
“Fancy Chinese food, eh?” Aeron jested.
“Oh I love the stuff. So where’s this bar you were talking about?”
He looked at her, into her dazzling blue eyes. For a moment he forgot he where he was. Lost in the depths of her person. Though not particularly reading anything but amusement in them. He did, however, sense a vast deepness. Like there was more there than was apparent. He sensed much was hidden. The thought of this startled him. Suddenly, he realized she was watching him.
“Well?” she said with a playful smile.
“Oh, uh…”

“Can‘t Say You Wouldn't Regret"

If you ever woke,
Up next to someone else,
You know it would,
Be the one thing you regret.

In the morning,
In someone else’s bed,
You find yourself,
Looking at a stranger.

You think to yourself,
“What have I done?”
Tossed it down the drain.
“Threw it all away.”

And when you kiss her,
You feel me, oh,
So far away.
It makes you cold.

Still, you run,
Away from your mistake,
And try to hide,
In those loveless eyes.

But she’s so unfamiliar,
And the closer you get,
The less you see,
Of what you want to see.

And every time you,
Look at her you see,
The kind, green eyes,
You lost yourself in.

And in your sleep,
You hear the laugh,
And see the smile,
That made you shine.

You can’t say you,
Wouldn’t regret it,
If you ever woke up,
In someone else’s bed.

-Just doing some abstract thinking. I tried to put myself in the place of a person who had cheated on someone they loved incredibly by accident. I've never been in that place, so, I hope it's fairly accurate.

:[

I wish I had a piano. And some recording equipment.

I added a bit onto my story last night. I don't have it up yet. It's not a whole lot. A couple of paragraphs and some dialogue. I want to go back and change it up, because I'm not satisfied with some of it.

So yeah.

Good day, children,
Matt

A little different from most everything else I write.

I close my eyes,
And listen to the static,
Raindrops on the roof,
Of my car, and I wonder,
Is the sun still shining,
Where you are?

My mind wanders,
Just for a moment,
In the driver’s seat,
Behind the wheel.

Not long ago,
I set foot, off the train,
Back home. It’s rained,
Ever since that day.
I sometimes think,
That town may be
Washed away.

Turn the key,
Ignition, the engine
Turns over, and I shift,
Into drive.

Some nights, I lie,
Awake, and imagine,
You beside me,
A slanted roof above our heads,
As we try to sleep,
One stormy night.

Close my eyes,
Once again. Just this,
Time I fall asleep.
As it rains outside.

-Yeah, this one is kind of strange. First off, I couldn't think of anything to title it, without the word "rain" in it. I write about the rain enough as it is. There's something about rain. You can put any sort of emotion to rain, and it intensifies it. Sorrow, a solemn, stormy night. Tension, a hunter, stalking his or her prey through the shadows, the rain intensifying the tension, and setting a dark mood. Happiness, a renewing, cleansing, cathartic rain, where someone can let go, or two lovers finally kiss.

You can do anything with it.

Second, I messed around, and made it kind of story like. I also broke up the sentences, so it sounds strange when you say it. Well, most of my stuff has a sort of broken tempo.

That's about the extent of it.

--Matt

"So Sure"

My greatest fear,
Is that I might never live,
Or just live to die alone.
But you make me feel so at home,
Make me feel so alive.
So please don’t go,
And I won’t walk away.
Though I’m easily scared,
And you’re so afraid.
We find that peace of mind,
And need not tremble,
So sure that we can survive.
So sure we can live through the night,
Even with the raging storm outside.
The mighty sea can’t even sweep,
The ground out from beneath our feet.
Tonight I walk the streets alone,
And I long to let my shoes carry me home.


-I think I like it. I'm not sure yet. I like a lot of it.

I'm really tired.

--Matt

"Home"

Set foot, back in my hometown,
Anxiety lifts from my weary shoulders.
Nine hours on a train,
Nine hours to contemplate.
Am I going home,
Or am I leaving?

I walk to town,
Under the florescent glow,
Of the streetlights.
‘Cause the sun,
Wants to shine on you,
That’s okay.

The sky glows grey,
With the sun’s last rays.
And the streets,
Are all empty.
As I meander
Through the alleys.

“You just want,
To get out,
When you’ve been here,
Your whole life.”
He says to me,
I agree.

I hang my head,
I couldn’t find Dylan.
But there Was Aaron.
I listened while he sang,
In a hoarse, almost whisper.
That rose to a yell.

I want to go home.
To go to her,
And fall into those,
Outstretched arms.

-Meh...I kind of lost my vigor towards the end. I might come back and re-write the last two verses of it. I like the rest a lot though.

--Matt

"Long Night, Long Island"

And it rained on you and me,
as we sat on the beach,
the steady static made by
the crashing of the waves.
The coast held us close
as we embraced.

The fireworks burned through,
the misty night as you,
wrapped me up tight,
when I couldn't, hold myself
together.

That night I got drunk,
off your energy and the heat,
of your fragile body
as you lay next to me.

"Sam Beam, Singer/Songwriter"

I get to thinking,
Could the Connecticut,
Carry me to you?
Oh, I long to try,
To float on down,
And wash ashore
In that bay.
Like a boy from the sea,
Sent from Neptune,
To you.

But I sit,
In the darkness
Of my living room,
Playing this guitar,
Thinking of you,
As I watch the fireflies,
Dance a moment more.
They can dance
While you’re away,
And put a smile
On my face.

-The title to this song is indeed an Iron & Wine reference. Well...I guess it's not really a reference. Rather, you could say, I named the song after Sam Beam. The reason for that is, when i thought up the second stanza, I was sitting in our half empty living room, looking out our new door, while playing "Fever Dream" by Iron & Wine on my guitar. It's a beautiful song. I couldn't really think of anything better to name it. So I just credited him with giving me inspiration.

Goodnight,
Matt

"Charles Lindbergh Was A Fascist"

Pause, turn my head,
while you look me,
in the face.
For a moment,
my smile fades.
The mask is shed,
just for one second,
and you can see,
that I'm a lonely little boy,
longing for the arms of,
his lover who is so far away.
I put the smirk,
and childish face back on.
It really isn't much,
of a mask.
I just don't feel so alone,
when others can't see,
how much I miss you.

-Matt

Yay for irrelevant poem titles!

Got new shoes (camo colours checker print Vans slip ons) and pants today. *Jubilations* My brother also got a new PC that makes mine look like a pansy. But, when I graduate high school, I get an iBook. Since I never got anything nifty for graduating the 8th grade besides a little party of sorts. I had to buy my computer myself. Oh well, he needed something better. Since he's a more avid gamer, where I'm a rather casual one.

Thus is the life of Matt.

"Rain Kisses/Racing the Day Break"

So, I had the idea of writing a piano song (a separate piece than the one I've already started) for lyrics Sarah wrote. I wanted to make my own personal contribution to the piece. So here goes: It's a two piece song. The first part, is a piano song with the sampling of a thunderstorm behind it, accompanied by Sarah's lyrics. Maybe I can convince her to do the vocals herself. <.< >.> :] An instrumental break in the middle, with the piano continuing, and if I can manage it somehow, a string section. It'll probably end up being just a single violin. I could manage to create some string stuff on a workstation that would sound fairly authentic. Then, the second half, will be me! My vocals, my lyrics, and still, me on piano. The thunderstorm sample will be playing/looping through out the entire piece, and it will go on for about 5-20 seconds after the second half of the song finishes.

Here are the lyrics:

“Rain Kisses/Racing the Day Break”
Lyrics by Sarah Coffman and Matt Cassani

I look out the window
At the rain that falls
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter
On the cold stone step
Out side my kitchen
Window.

The scent of a storm
Swells up,
Covering me in a blanket
Of solitude,
I wish I wasn't home
Alone for once.

I’m tempted,
Tempted to dial your
Number but I know that
You're not out yet.
I look at the rain drops
Just to remember that
I’m alone.

I feel the rain kiss my
Skin as I run away
Into the storm.
The suns right on the
Other side, now
All I have to do
Is fight my way to get it back.

[Break]

“Racing The Day Break”

It’s like they always say,
“The grass is greener,
On the other side.”
I just hope it's true,
‘cause I can’t stand
The grey, overcast sky,
Above me.

It’s getting old,
The constant drone,
Of raindrops on the roof.
One more day of rain,
I don’t think I can handle it.
So I make for the other side,
To get dry.

Dawn is breaking,
On the horizon line,
And I can see my final,
Destination.
Illuminated underneath,
This brilliant sunrise.
Now all I need, is for my feet,
To take me there.

The morning air,
Brisk and fresh, I am breathing,
My heart beating, in time,
With the song bird who,
Sings to me, so sweetly.
Finally, the clouds have broken,
Let your blue eyes glisten.

-Matt

"Him"

There is a boy,
with kind eyes,
slender frame,
and shaggy, sand-
coloured hair.

His delicate,
but firm fingers,
graze keys of ivory.
As gently as he would,
your cheek.

His body,
creates a melody,
echoed by his heart.
And his voice yearns,
to sing in harmony.

A song for two.
Well, a tune for,
just he, and you.
A song like time,
has never known.

-Matt

"Upon Waking"

Arms release,
a flash of blonde,
and around the corner
she goes.

I stand,
dumbfounded,
tugging at my sweatshirt,
like she does sometimes.

That's when I wake.
The clock reads 5 AM,
and I sit up in bed.
The room is cold.

My fingers close,
over soft, pounded metal,
in the shape of a circle,
that hangs around my neck.

I sit there like that.
Running my other hand,
through my hair,
fingers trembling.

Fear burns through me.
I wished I had run after,
around that damned corner,
and maybe catch her by the wrist.

My face burns,
and tears begin to flow,
from tired eyes.
"Don't leave me..."

I'm not afraid,
of being here alone,
I fear being left behind,
I fear you won't come back.

Will you come back,
as someone else?
A stranger with a familiar face?
I don't think that can happen.

I think it's quite plain,
I'm scared to the core.
Of losing everything,
of being lost again.

I long for your embrace,
to chase my fear away,
give me someplace safe,
some place we can stay.

Update On My Last Entry:

Scratch those lyrics. I'll use them for something else. I started the piano piece of it today. I wrote some stuff down on a piece of paper, and I'm hoping like hell I don't forget it all and be like "What the fuck does this mean? How did I play this thing?" Because I don't have piano to play at home, I have to play anywhere I can find one.

Concerning the lyrics, however. Once I'm done writing the piano portion of the song, and have maybe a rough recording to work with, or even just a memory of what the tempo is like, I'm going to start entirely new lyrics.

I'm hoping it will be a good piece. I'm trying to write it less with my brain and more with my heart. My brain just needs to tell my fingers where to go, and what I'm hearing, and if it all sounds nice together. My heart has to do most of the work. Not only does it have to keep the blood flowing in my body, but it has to tell me if what I'm playing is what I want the song to feel like. Are these notes portraying my emotions correctly? Can you get a glimpse of who I am from the sound of the music? Stuff like that. You know, the important stuff.

/end_rant

-Matt

I just had the sweetest idea ever.

-Here's some lyrics i wrote. Now that I think about it. I think about it, I think I might try to fit these to the acoustic song I wrote. That would be pretty amazing. A piano piece would be even more amazing. Oh, hell yes. I'm doing that.

"Move Mountains (Don't Give Up)"

I never truly leave,
I’m always right,
There inside your soul.
Right there beside you.
Our hearts will span,
Two thousand miles,
From New York
To Phoenix

Don’t give up,
Don’t give up,
I’ve got your hand.
Don’t be afraid,
For when you fall,
I’ll pull you right,
Back up again.

I’d tread,
A thousand deserts,
And dunes of sand,
To save your soul.
And no ocean would,
Hold me back,
I’d swim across
To get to you.
There’d be no tide,
That could pull me under.

-And it continues, with the part with repeating lines as the chorus. I will add more verses later.

"June"

I lie awake,
in the dark, alone.
June has found me.

Sometimes
I wish, to call your name into the night.
So you would arrive at my bedside.

I apologize.
I'm no good with goodbyes.
I can't bear looking away.

June has,
found me, restless in the twilight.
Evenings, though calm, are so lonely.

Frizzed hair,
in the heat, and I still can't sleep.
Your absence is killing me, but I can't give up.

You,
found me, on that warm August afternoon.
A lost little boy, under the streetlights.

Don't give up,
we can find paradise, within each other.
Just help me save the walls, while we're apart.

And June,
will come and go, then leave us tired.
Exhausted by her sweet summer grace.

"Red Moon"

Red moon risen,
over fields and forest.
While blankets of grey,
cover the sky.
It captures me,
holding my eye.
Breathtaking,
up amongst the stars.
Do you see it?
Could you be,
looking at it now?
Can't remove my gaze.
As the humidity,
clings to my skin,
makes me feel like,
I could swim
through the air.
Surface from the
atmosphere.
I've always wondered,
what it's like in space.

"Breathing"

I close my eyes,
And lay my head down,
On your shoulder,
My face against your neck.

And I watch your chest
Rise and fall, as you breathe,
Deep and soft.
I’m glad to be alive.

I don’t know what I,
Must have done to get here.
Safe and warm with you,
Right next to me.

You’re a breath of fresh air,
And when you come around,
I can finally breathe, my light,
Inside a town covered by grey clouds.

I close my eyes,
Your head is on my chest.
My lungs swell,
Carrying in your sweet scent.

"Photo Albums"

You, you’ve got cities in your blood,
And highways for veins,
Oh, I can see far off distant places,
In your eyes,

And your grandmother,
She was gracious to give you,
Looks from her prime, and eyes,
Of bright blue

Pictures of children on slides,
In City parks in spring,
And old homes in Canadian hills,
Where your family once stayed

Your mother made a happy child,
With blue eyes of her own.
Such a curious spirit then,
Before her years caught up.

Finally, there you are,
Framed against an ocean sunset,
In photos of the San Diego,
Shoreline from summers old.

You said to me once,
that you've got a box,
you fill with memories.
But it's empty.

Photo albums, and memory boxes,
can be filled with pictures,
and trinkets to reminisce.
But memories, are kept in your heart.

"Wings"

Lit by dull lamp light,
green glass reflects the tungsten glow.
Frozen in an image, there's a heart,
with wings spread,
soaring towards the sky.

I think to myself,
"My heart has wings.
I can soar, just spread my wings,
spread my hands to the sky.
Close my eyes, hands reach for the sky."

-Short poems are nice too. :]

"When the Trees Grew Tired"

One day, I saw you in a crowd of,
familiar strangers, and a
single spotlight shone on you.

The fire burned into the night,
and when the autumn twilight faded,
you took me to your room.

In one day my life had changed,
oh, how wonderful it became,
i'd take the bad, just to have the good, and be with you.

The stars, they smiled at us from above,
after the sun had gone to sleep.
That's when the leaves grew tired of green.

But that night I wouldn't sleep.
For I couldn't close my eyes.
So filled with ecstasy, I finally willed myself to dream.

I dreamt of you, standing infront of me,
smiling, always smiling.
Enchanted, in a dream so heavenly.

That living dream, autumn air i breathed,
that day in between, the summer heat,
and the tired trees, who sighed and shed their leaves.

-Matt

Rain

Rain. Most people find a rainy day gloomy and dim. I sure did, until I met her. I never saw the rain as purifying. I never knew that you could use it as an excuse to get your clothes, and hair all wet, and come in and have a nice hot drink. I never discovered that being in the rain felt like being wrapped in static or white noise until recently. It’s rather comforting.

My dad told me of how he used to lay out in the night, and watch the stars, and listen to the sounds of night time. Even in the winter. He’d ride his snowmobile out into a field, and stop the engine, and listen to the sounds, and look at the sky. I smiled as I listened to him talk. At least he can’t say I’m going loony on him, now that I know.

I know she hates water. But she loves to dance. The rain makes me want to dance, now. It’s soft pitter-patter on the roof, sounds like a drumming, rolling through my veins and bones. The funny part is, I can’t dance. Sure, I can slow dance, but I tend to stumble trying anything much more complicated.

It hasn’t been that long really, but time moves slow when you do. It felt like ages since I’d seen her face. I was afraid, however, to see her again. I wasn’t sure what to do. I wanted her to feel for me, love me. It was hard to tell if she still did or not. But I didn’t want to interfere with her plans. I respected her decisions. If she wasn’t happy with me, then I’d rather see her go. Even on a sunny day.

It was cloudy when we met in town. Humidity caused my hair to do somersaults over itself. Bad hair days didn’t bother me though. I actually enjoyed a disheveled look. Forecasts had predicted thunderstorms and scattered showers for the afternoon. I believed the Weather Man would deliver. I could smell the moisture in the air.

The thought of impending storms did naught, to distract me from my anxiety. A week had turned me into a neurotic wreck of a human being. Who can blame me? She said to meet her at the pizza place, her, I, and our friends hung out at. I reached it, somewhat late. I passed through the first set of glass doors, into the wood floored walkway. I was shaking uncontrollably, and my chest was heavy. I felt a lump in my throat. I sensed her familiar presence.

I passed the glass exit door, and I looked through. There she was. Looking at me, with a concerned look on her solemn face. I wished she’d smile. I was having trouble hiding the hurt on my face, but I managed an uneasy grin myself. Then I turned into the shop. I glanced behind the counter, Joe was working. I returned my gaze to her. Still hard-faced, she looked at me. I lowered my eyes, as I pulled a chair up, avoiding hers. Whether it was my imagination or not, I thought I saw pain in them.

“Hey,” she said, with a nonchalant wave.
“Hey,” I said weakly. My voice, still a coarse whisper. I sat down and stared at my feet for a moment. Thinking of something to say. I looked up into her eyes. Suddenly, I was at a loss for words. Lost in two, turbulent seas of bright blue. I sighed, dumbfounded. It was incredible how beautiful she was. She was like a Greek goddess, the kind you see immortalized in marble, yet here she was. Her delicate face, as if carved from stone, looked deep into me. The silence was painful, I strained to speak. “So…how have you been?”
“Alright, I guess,” she seemed anxious.
“Yeah,” The pizza shop became a considerably less desirable place to be, for a tryst to take place. “You want to go somewhere else? Like, for a walk or something?”
“Sure.”

We got up to leave, slowly. I couldn’t tell what was on her mind, she’s so unreadable and it scares me when she’s like that. It’s when she takes her walls down, and when she leans towards me and kisses my cheek with a giggle, or when I’d gaze deep into her eyes between kisses. It’s when she whispers things in my ear, or plays with my hair, that I melt, and I feel like I’m seeing her genuine self. I was scared. I think she was scared too.

On Main Street, the sky had gotten darker, and I closed my eyes, as the wind picked up, blowing my hair into my face. As I walked next to her, I let my hand out, half subconsciously, and half consciously. I hoped she would grab my hand, and give it a reassuring squeeze, and I thought to grab hers for moment. I thought better of it, lest not to frighten her. I made better use of it to brush the locks away from my eyes. We chatted some as we walked. Mostly about friends, and life. The stuff we always talk about.

Then I felt a raindrop graze my cheek. I smiled. “Hey, do you want to go to Elmwood?” I asked, and she thought about it for a moment.
“Okay.”

Another thing I discovered when I was with her-inside the vast world I became a part of when she took my hand and led me off-I learned cemeteries aren’t that scary after all. In fact, they’re rather peaceful. A warm energy tends to radiate off of Elmwood in particular. I felt it one winter day as I walked by. As we crested the hill where the green of Elmwood Cemetery meets the sidewalk on Washington St., they sky cracked open.
She growled, “Ugh, I hate water…”

I chuckled to myself, throwing my head back. The familiar feeling of water on my face. The sound of the rain, and the cars passing on the wet asphalt filled my ears. I let rain caress my face for a moment, before I returned to reality. Once, I did the same thing. Only the rain had been callous. It held back, as I stood there on the median line of my road under the streetlight. I wished for tears to come then. But they didn’t.

She turned and watched me, until I began to walk again. Curiosity flicked across her features for a moment. I believed I saw the hint of a smirk. We reached the circle in the center of the cemetery. The same place we had visited many times before. By now I was drenched and laughing. I spun around, arms spread. I marveled at how lucky I was.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
I stopped and turned to her. "It's incredible. Here I am, and here you are again,” She raised a skeptical eyebrow at me and I shrugged. “Care to dance?” I said, exaggerating with a terrible French accent. I held my hand out and she looked at it reluctantly. “Please?”

Shrugging she walked over to me, and took my hand. I felt a sensation, one I hadn’t felt since she said goodbye. It was her touch. The familiar touch of her hand, setting my nerves on fire. She draped her other arm from my shoulder, and I wrapped my arm around her waist as I pulled her close to me. We slow danced in the rain, in the middle of a cemetery. I didn’t care. She was here, I was happy just to be close to her, to have her hand in mine.

I choked, as the lump in my throat disappeared, and I burst into tears. I buried my face in her shoulder. The tears came as I had so desperately wanted. I wasn’t sure whether they were tears of grief or joy. I was happy, sad, scared, amazed, dozens of feelings at once, all overflowing. Was I crying because I she left? Was I crying because I wished she would come back? Or was I crying because she did come back, if just for this moment?

I was crying because I knew I loved her. I was crying because I was afraid to lose her, of being hurt again. Because I wasn’t sure whether it was going to be the same as before. I was crying because I wanted to trust her more than anything. To believe that she would come back, that she wouldn’t hurt me. I was crying because there was so much uncertainty, yet I was certain I was in love with the angel who held me in her arms as I fell to pieces.

In all the time we spent, it seemed so short. I wanted to show her, or tell her somehow, how I felt for her. It was the tears that fell from my face onto her soaking shirt I wanted to show her all along. All the joy, spilling out, in the only way it could have. But to do so, it seemed, I had to know exactly what I had. Even if it was painful Even though I never took her for granted. I had to be able to let it go as well. I’ve heard it said that true love is selfless. To not let go is to be selfish. Could I let go? I wanted her to be happy. If that wasn’t with me, then yes.

The rain continued to pour. As we stood, in the graveyard. Wrapped in a blanket of static, and soaked to the core. The end of us is uncertain. Or clear as daylight. I am uncertain of so many things as I write this. But I am certain of just as many.


The End

-Something I wrote. To get some feelings out. I'm not exactly sure if there is a purpose for this. It just kind of sprouted from my heart, and my head. I do like it. I think it's my best piece, probably that i've ever written. At least i feel that way. It feels like it's easily the best story i've ever written. The longest one i think i've done. I feel proud of myself actually. And yeah, i really don't have much to say about it, except, i'm enthralled i could put so much down and make it flow. I need to proofread it more, i think. At least the better part of the second half of it. Anywho, enjoy.

<3>

"At the Bottom of the Ocean Pt. 1 (Sidewalks)"

Hair blows in the breeze,
as i take a step down this street,
mind wanders as i follow my feet,
taking steps along this track,
strewn with rocks, littered with trash.

Sidewalks lead me down the road.
Does the sidewalk ever end?
And where do i begin this journy,
into the ocean?

Walking does well to one's mind,
but wears holes in the soles of all our shoes.
So i find shelter, where and when i choose.
But one day, i walked right into you.

And i gazed, as i dusted off my pants,
at a girl who's face was smudged with dirt,
and what i saw first, was the ocean of blue.
I wished to swim right in.

-This was originally part of the whole poem, but it didn't really feel like the rest of it (Part two). I felt like it changed subjects, and pretty much poems entirely. So i split it up. This part kind of sets the metaphor for part two. Or at least that's what i tried to do by splitting it up.

"At the Bottom of the Ocean Pt. 2 (Heartbeat)"

I held my breath, as i took the first step,
walking into the sea,
the tide was heavy, but i kept my feet,
as the waves pushed me back.

And there, at the bottom, all covered in coral,
lay a chest made of driftwood and sand.
Upon stretching out my hand,
I felt a beating from inside.

What wonder! Such a thing to discover,
a chest at the bottom of the sea,
from which eminates a steady heart beat,
surrounded by warm salt water.

I was distressed for a moment,
for I had no key.
But i was overwhelmed with curiosity.
There was a *click* as I tried to lift the lid.

Oh, what I found inside,
was a heart, so fragile, yet so heavy,
it took all my strength to lift it delicately.
And in the joy of just holding it, i forgot about my weak body.

In my palm i felt it pulse,
and I smiled as i held it to my breast,
I vowed with my heart and soul, to do my best,
to hold up this heart, with sure fingers.

But if ever i need to let it go,
I will return it to the chest, so deep, down,
close the lid, and turn around,
climb to the surface, remembering the warm waters,
and the chest, buried at the bottom of the sea.

“Like Sunlight”

Welcome, bright blue sky,
It’s nice to see your face again.
Smile with us, let your light
Warm the skin of our cheeks.

Why do you hide behind the clouds?
Turning the world dull and grey,
When you pull the covers over your head.
Pity, for that really is a shame.

Will you come out for us?
When our hands draw near,
And the light that reflects,
From our eyes, mimics the sky?

So when it’s so dark, and cold,
Will you pierce the rain,
And dry the up the ground,
To cause the world to bloom once more?

-Wee, i like this one a lot. I think it's about the sun. Or something else. I haven't decided yet. :]

-Matt!

"Sleep"

He awoke with a slight start. He looked up, to see her standing over him, eyes glossy in the moonlight. “Did you have a nightmare?” he asked. She nodded gently. “C’mon.”
He lifted up the comforter, and she laid down next to him on the sofa. He felt her tremble slightly, as she buried her head in his chest. He sighed. All he wished for was this girl’s happiness. He wrapped his arms around her, and stroked her hair. He cooed to her softly, and kissed the top of her head.
“I love you,” she whispered into his shirt.
“I love you too,” he said. “Wake me up if you decide to go back to bed, okay?”
She nodded again. By now she’d stopped trembling. Her hand gripped his shirt, and he smiled to himself. He wished he could stay like this for the rest of his life. Though he wished he could take back all the stupid things he’d said to her to make her hurt, however few, he did not wish to hurt her. Things like that, however, are inevitable. Though they hurt, wounds do heal, and people do forgive.
His mind was made up. Nothing good ever comes free. So he vowed to try as hard as possible, whether it killed him or not, to make it work. All he ever wanted, lay beside him now, asleep. He was determined not to lose that.
The stars shone brightly outside the window. He looked at the moon, and song played through his brain. It’s melody swam through him, and he looked at the sleeping girl beside him. He smiled, and buried his face in her sweet-smelling hair, closing his eyes. Sleep was waiting for him on the other side.

-Yeah. Something i wrote when i was bored, and slightly contemplative. I don't know about this one though. It doesn't really have a flow to it, but instead, it's more of just me, thinking about stuff and writing it down, and making it into a situation. I might improve on it later, make it a bit more of a story, like it was intended. Well, really, it was originally going to be a poem, but i changed my mind before i started writing. So this is what resulted.

-Moi

“Fate, Forever, Luck, and Love"

What lasts forever?
When “forever” and “never”
Are such relative terms?
Though we die,
Our souls live on,
But for what?

Here I stand now,
Questioning the world.
I ask myself,
“Will this last forever?”
I’ve seen feelings die before,
So I close my eyes,
And bite my lip.

And I ask myself,
“What do I believe?”
When suddenly,
I see your face.
Of all things around me,
I believe in two,
I believe in love, and I believe in you.

“What is fate?”
I’ve heard it asked.
Well, was it fate, or
Was it luck,
That brought me to you?
Well I know,
I’m too damn lucky,
For my own good.

-I had a moment of philosophical thought, so i decided to write something about it. I guess this is philosohpy...a little...Maybe not...

-teh Mattness

“The Girl From the Painting”

Are you something, that
Spilled from a canvas,
Into reality?
Surely such beauty could
Only come from an a brush,
But I guess I’m wrong.

By what hand have,
Your curves been crafted?
And what divine guide,
Caused those fingers,
To create
Such a perfect face?
(The Goddess is jealous, the goddess is jealous of you.)

You must be something real,
‘cause no canvas can hold,
Such a fiery soul,
Nor eyes that burn
With such passion,
That they overflow.

Whether figment,
Or corporeal,
or if just a dream,
then it means everything to me.
And i wish to never wake.

Hunger-Continued

“Hmm…Aeron,” she chuckled.
He sighed. He liked listening to her laugh. It was the kind of laugh that makes you feel happy when you hear it. Genuine and relaxed. “I really like the waterfront at night.”
“That sounds nice.”
“So it’s settled?”
“I guess so.” she sat up. “Ready to go?” she said, cocking her head to the side slightly.
“Yep.”
The two got up from the breakfast nook, and headed towards the door. Aeron followed Kai as she made her way to the door. She looked back at him, for a moment with wary eyes.
“I’m not going to steal anything…or rape you…” he said.
“I know, I have a hard time trusting people.”
“Oh.”
Kai opened the door and stepped into the hallway, waiting up for him. The apartment building was a nice one. It wasn’t too nice though. The halls were neat, and the building was in nice condition, and the other tenants weren’t too loud. Human ears wouldn’t have been able to hear things like people snoring on separate floors, or a radio, or a TV going in another room.
“I like it here. It seems really nice,”
Kai locked her apartment door and turned to face him. “Meh, I’ve only spent one night here. Shall we go now?”
“Of course,” he smiled at her.

"Hunger"

Continued from “Hunger” (On the computer in the Lighting Booth)

Like a cat he moved from the living room to the hallway, where there was yet more boxes. Melding with the shadow, he crept forward. A single ray of light pierced the darkness from the crack of the bathroom door. He could see inside, but not a shadow moved, even as he crossed into the light for a split second. Finally, he paused on the outside of the door and listened for a moment. There was a shift in the atmosphere of the apartment when he realized the singing had stopped.
In a flash, the door burst open. He leapt back and a body crashed into him and pinned him to the wall. He looked at his assailant and he nearly stopped breathing.
“Wow…” he whispered as he looked into the most beautiful pair of blue eyes he’d ever seen. A look of shock passed over the strange girl’s face. Her golden hair hung in her face, as her mouth hung agape enough to expose fangs like his own. “You’re beautiful,” Her cheeks flushed red and she looked away for a moment.
She brought her gaze back to his and looked him straight in the eyes. He knew she could read him like a book, he’d always been that way. Her eyes softened for a moment, then looked him over.
“You’re not threat at all are you? Even if you are one of my kind,” she said with a smirk.
“No, not really. Not to you anyways.”
“Hah. So do you do this every time you break into an attractive female’s apartment?”
He let out a small laugh, “No, this is a first. Do you treat all your guests like this?” He was enjoying it.
“Guest? You broke into my apartment. What’d you expect me to do, welcome you with open arms and then let you have your way with me?” It almost seemed like she was testing his wit.
“Hah, no, I’m not like that.”
“I guess I’m lucky then. I get the only intruder in all of New York who doesn’t want to get in my pants,” she let go and took a step back, but didn’t turn her back on him. “So why did you come in anyways?”
“Curiosity?” she raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “I heard you singing, actually. And I could smell the lavender.” It was painfully obvious he was no good with the opposite sex.
“So you’re a sucker for a pretty voice and lavender soap?”
“I guess you could say that. I‘m a romantic is a better way of putting it.”
“Aww. How cute,” she smiled at him playfully. She had an incredible smile, hindered not in the least by the fangs. He looked her up and down quickly and took her in. She was slightly shorter than him, thin, with defined curves and a exquisite figure. Drop dead gorgeous. The kind that could kill a vampire even.
She stood in a pair of jeans, and a blue zip-up hoodie over a pink t-shirt. Around her slender neck was a few necklaces and crimson red ribbon, tied like a choker, with a crystal on it. Her wrists were covered in a laughable amount of the “sex bracelets” and a couple sweatbands. He had on a similar blue zip-up hoodie and jeans. He wore bracelets as well, just fewer. Around his own neck were a couple runes.
He shook his hair and left it tousled and hanging in front of his eyes. Then looked at her. “It’s a gorgeous night out. Wanna do something? I know it sounds strange coming from a dude who just broke into your house, but…” he shrugged. “I like you.”
This caught her off guard. But she smiled, “I love the night, I guess that’s why I’m a vampire.”
He beamed, “So is that ‘yes’?”
She laughed, throwing her head back, “Sure.”
“Great.”

Chapter 2

She turned and started down the hallway. “What do you want to do?” she said as they rounded a corner and stepped into a small kitchen area. The entire apartment seemed to be overflowing with boxes. “By the way, sorry about all the boxes and crap, I just moved in last night.”
“It’s okay,” he said, as they sat down across the breakfast nook from each other. He put his chin in his hands and gazed at her. She looked at him and smiled. “What do you feel like doing?”
“I don’t know, I’m terrible at making decisions.”
“Well, I went out to feed actually, but I kind of got…sidetracked I guess.”
She chuckled, and studied the boxes for a moment.
“What’s your name? Sorry, I forgot to ask you earlier,”
She stretched, and looked at him, grinning slightly, “I’m Kaiden. I like Kai better.”
“Kai,” he closed his eyes. “Kai…”
“And you are?”
“Oh, um,” he blinked. “I’m Aeron.”


-I will add onto it later. I'm trying a different kind of writing technique. Instead of writing as much as i can in a single sitting, i'll write as much as i'm satisfied with (by that i mean, it flows, and it sounds good, not length, but quality), then set it down and come back at a later time.

-Matt