Here I go, once again.

...boy I could go for a nap right now.

Sick, yes sick.

Again.

Curse you sinuses, curse you I say.

"When I Remember" - Blindside

I really am the worse villain I could almost ever face.

On the flip side, I wouldn't mind seeing myself in plate mail swinging about an appropriately sized katana all while chasing off myself.

Realizing you are the beginning and end of every single one of your problems isn't the most reassuring thing in the world.

Novel Number Two: Begin Sequence...Now

Yes.

It has begun.

Another thirty days and another 50,000 words in a new rough draft.

Be afraid.

Be very afraid.

Lyrics From Another's Pen

I remember you. When I am wrapped in darkness, When the world closes her eyes, I remember you.

I think of resting with you, When you finally go to sleep, Meet me in the closet of my heart So that you may lay at my feet.

“Who is this?” they said to me that the wind and waves obey come, let’s hang him on a tree that his reign should pass away but here I am I say to you though you turn away, it is my will to love you for forevermore peace be still, peace be still

I ache for you, When my body cracks and I sigh When I am wrapped in darkness, When the world closes her eyes.

I think of you, When I breath, when I rise and I bow When time passes and when she stands still Then, there, here, now.

“Who is this?” they said to me that the wind and waves obey come, let’s hang him on a tree that his reign should pass away but here I am I say to you though you turn away, it is my will to love you for forevermore peace be still, peace be still

-Showbread, THE SKY (ALPHA)

There just HAS to be a poetic equivalent of speed metal. When I find it I shall die happy.




Is there anything more sound that is as annoyingly pretentious in such a beautiful way? I think not...

I hope it does not seem to dramatic of me...but I really wish this part of me was no more...or could just fade away.

Is this the right way? I sorta want to run screaming in the other direction...a little mixture of comfort and reassurance would rock right about now...

This burning dull sensation.

Hunger for life in its separate ways.

Sanitation inside acting out.

Day by Day burning cleaning sense.

Wow. My poetry depressingly sucks.

More To Go

It is just great. I can hide here in my self pity all the live long day. Neglecting others, neglecting self and rising another mile marker in the name of pride. Isn't it just wonderful, so absolutely wondrous at the absurdity of the stark vulgarity crying out?

Oh dear, can't you just see it all wrapped around your little finger? The dying addictions, the self afflicted cancers that eat away at our precious pretending souls? We claim to know something, to see it all but at the end of the day so very little is left of your world.

You can hear it. I know you can. The high pitched screaming along with the chittering legs of insects running rampant through the very essence of your being.

You can defy everything that is within, dance around the truth and be everything that I knew I never would choose not to be. Lusting for the attention and whoring out the being of myself just so I can please the monolith I raised. Sacrifices and blood pouring from your soul.

Every time and I mean every single time I look into your eyes, gaze into that steel cold reflection of myself...I see every last thing I have ever despised and wanted to kill. Nothing can hope to define the ecstasy of rage that burns in my heart at seeing you, the precious little angel concocted from misplaced sympathy and unadulterated lust.

A bastard child if there ever could be hope of one.

There could never be one I hate more, one I am more disconnected from and one that i will never know so deeply. Ego and super ego, persona and soul. One mind, one body, one flesh and one soul. We are one and the same, yet we are the polar opposite of carnal flesh and supernatural spirit. No hate could ever be met, no demonic screech could math the throes of our battles. Ultimately we are both wrong, both bastards in need of a redeeming wrench from the overwhelming powers of divine wrath.


Sing over me.
Let the waves of ocean flow underneath.
Be still in breath and wait to hear,
The voice of my love.
Sweet and low inside,
flowing within and without this life.
Even within the fevered pitch of my hate,
You have still loved me.

It is so ironic that every time I seek to serve you I just am trying to use you to further my own selfish goals. Every time I stop to talk or listen so often it is nothing more then a thinly veiled attempt at using people for my self gratification and self propulsion.

I'm much to exhausted right now to be able to apologize for it all...but for what little my sincerity is genuinely worth...I am sorry.

Thank You for being so much bigger then me, my failure and what little success I have had. Thank You for your ardent embrace and loving me. Thank you.

I really, really would like to quit now. Please?

Gargh.

I hate being so fricking tired that I can't even fall asleep. Being sick sucks too. Yes, it does.

It would be rather easy to join you in your vast array of opinions and of certain doubt...but I'll be passing.

Yeah it hurts...it burns...it is hard to keep perspective when things feel like they are collapsing under your feet...that you are unable to remain upright longer then a second...but here we are either way.

Choice is both the problem and the solution. We choose, we live, we die, we pain, we suffer, we desire, we...continue on recklessly oblivious of it all.

Here it comes and here it goes. No matter how you want to look at it, it is coming.

Infection
Breaking in
Screaming out
Every little word is tried
Every little thing that said

Drawn me in or cast me out
Your beauty is all I got left
It moves me after I stop
The downbeat with out a doubt
Pulls me back to life

More Lyrics That Aren't Mine

I'm nauseous, or maybe just inspired
So truthful, I begin to tire,
No less then everything.
No haiku, no paper packaged thing,
Patronized you harmonize, a thorax rattles so,
Like idealistic jargon every self-respecting hopeful ought to know.

I know the road to everything,
I know it goes right off a cliff,
Nothing, Nothing is forever

Sympathy I do indeed intake in bulk amounts,
For reasoning obscure it seems to numerous to count,
And so it goes the leser chose to crawl through narrow gates,
Bulimic thin the winding road now emptires into lakes,
A pulse is found, and so we drown, and sing for this duration,
From rows and rows of teeth we're spared, these artery serrations.

I know the road to everything,
I know it goes right off a cliff,
Nothing, Nothing is forever

Emptiness I must impress upon you in its granger,
My stagnant heart, it comes apart, as selfishness demands her,
To sound a note from scores I wrote,
And offer them unto thee,
For melodies now synthesized, Your love it lives within me.

Nothing is forever.

-Showbread, "A Llama Eats A Giraffe (And Vice Versa)"

Note to self: Find a better job so we can quit the current one.

Father, I'm begging you here...PLEASE help me sleep.

"The Missing Wife" - Showbread

Copied from Myspace

((This was just copied directly from myspace...i know thats the place where anyone reads anything...just figured i would put this here for archive purposes))




Forward:

First, to answer what is no doubt a burning question in some people's minds: No I am not dead. I am sick and imagine this isn't what feeling dead feels like, so allow me to assure you all that until you get a memo from me informing you of my untimely demise do not believe everything you read online or assume the worse because I am the kind of jerk who can never remember to return phone calls.

Secondly, the following is some of the material I have been working on in the past six months. I tried to organize it into a somewhat ordered form that might give a better sense to what would otherwise be a very loose exercise in masochism that the uninitiated might confuse for reading.

The more layers I pull back of myself the more I realize of how unable I am to share myself with others. It is much easier to escape into created worlds of self delusion then it is to openly embrace that which we would never rather face in the first place. Psychoanalysis isn't needed because I already know that I am nutter, but bottom line it just doesn't look very good on a resume.

Assuming you have the guts to continue on past this very late night migraine afflicted rant you will find about a dozen poems or so. They have themes ranging from love, love lost, faith, doubt, confusion and the only comfort I have found in this world.

How do you explain a rose to a person that lacks the ability to see and smell? How do you begin to explain the bright colors and fragrance that are in stark contrast to the monotone and stench filled world we inhabit? I find myself in the same problem with what it is I am and who I am becoming. My life is being shaped into something I simply don't understand and even with trial and error the overarching theme eludes me.

However, as little sense as it may make it is going.

For the attention deficit among us I'll sum it up this way:
"Jesus loves you and I am trying. Really, I am."



Thank you, good night and Godspeed;
-matt

** ** ** ** *


I.The Only Things I Hate More Then Myself is Your Smile (But Other Then That I Think I'm Starting to Like You)

You, you said I was too immature
My music collection too

Was it so hard to see the difference
The smiles and the lies
The long burning days while we

Held onto this false yearning
The soft frozen nights we would

Neglect the fact that we were chosen
To see the difference of a life
Building a world of our own
The differences it made

The days we live
The nights we lie

Could you look past yourself to see the light,
to see this day and its last dying ray,
to feel and embrace the sight of what
could only be said to be today?


II. Just To You

Grey Clouds.
Hazy Rain.
Distant Melancholia.

The desire to tell you everything else,
the thoughts working in my mind
that have been my whole life.

Nothing you say has meaning
Outside of the lies
The broken promise of yesteryear
The feeling inside your mind
Exposed in broken tubes
Spilling red fires

I wish I could say good bye to saying goodbye
But your memory never leaves me
It haunts my dreams and my waking breath
That you are ever a part of me
But That i was just a part of you

On and on in dreams
Ever will never be
On and on in dreams
Love can't always see
To light the path
To always be


III.Distance is More

Our distance is the everything.
We don't know what could be
But by dark light
Luminous times
We move in sync
One tempo
One love
Day by day
Night in night
We take that step closer
Love


IV.Proverbial Please

Seven things to say
Several things to show
The broken and the poor
The fool's old way
Seven things to say
The same broken way

Blood stained glass
Trickles of hope washed in red
A broken and bloody stain on your soul
You let the smile fade as you remember regret
Even with the past holding on your soul
Never look back
Never give back what you have

The bastardized child within not wanting to see
Daring you not to feel any, anymore

A litter not born
A few. Just a few more.
The lies we embrace
To lend self adore

The unborn blood spilled
The defenseless cut open
Letting us get our feel
The need to be our gods
To play and deface all in our way

See us weep it out, our dearest little TV.
The defenseless mindless automaton
Our greatest contribution is apathy
Our greatest kindness is how often
We kill each other out of glee
No laugh, no plea.

We embrace death as an escape
To hide the mistake of our hate
Self emollition of the soul
The nerve it grates
Ripping across raw nerves
Shockwaves of our own decadence
Rotten treats and simple feats


V.Small Words

Some things may be spoken
Others rhymed
Half breath statements barely alive

Some things can be said
Others must be emphasized
Bold words largely revised

A breath of air in the dark
Large falsehoods painted in red
Embolden by their vulgar stark

What, a plea outside for the inward dead?
Acting so free with that life,
Casting about with those looks so trite
Affection never rang so true
Except by words you said

This pride could be said
Vernacular demised.
But some things are better left unsaid
At least until they are screamed



VI.No Word Free

There are no words free that i may use to describe everything you are, all that you are and all that you will be.

Words fall short and actions fail to render true meaning to one like you.

Your name unspeakable, my eyes can never meet your gaze, to be in your mere shadow causes me to stumble.

In few words you are beyond perfection, you are one beyond my imagination.



VII.Just a Moment Really

Where would I be without you and hyperbole?
The exaggeration I need to soothe my soul.
Pretending like all is well
Generating a plastic smile
Molding out your perfect life

It's every small thing
Bringing me back
It's every little thing
Ringing in my ears

If time were your friend
we wouldn't see the cracks
Hear the bones snap
Watching you break your back
As you carry out the act of a life

Seeing you live life so well
Pouring out a plastic smile
Molding out every perfect little lie

If I wasn't so sure it was hate
I would begin to think I love you
Just as much as I stare into me
While dreaming of Narcissa
Didn't you know love was true?
That you only needed open the gate
Free your heart and let it be?


VIII.Hmph

I cannot pretend to know this word.
Inklings of a life past flow in expanse.

Speechless.
Breathless.
Embrace.

The yawing, the gaping expression.
An expanse, the border of existence.
You are mindful now, if you ever were.
Nothing said, nothing will.
Goodbye.


IX.Of Pearls and Swine

Throwing these pearls to swine,
stomping and eating this trash you vomit.
Finely ordered trash on which we dine
The stench, the sweat, the pain indeed
The look of your grin
Makes me so sick within

God save me from this Hell we're in.
Every second of this wasted life
Mucking about in our trash
We vomit Your name in excess
Wasted like a crashed, finely tuned to trite metaphor

Swine eating
Swine spinning
Swine defacing
Feed up
Eat down
Swing about
Swing in
Sing out
Swine wasting
Swine tasting
Swine debasing
All within

Vomit all out and reject it within.

Hate all you never seen,
within the outside

The lies we spin
so we sleep at night
With fire we burn within
Stoked by our ego
Kept by fading youth
Malicious we grin
As we feast on our kin

Pearls to swine
Nothing left to loose
Every game we played we played back for you
Every knife in every back
The knots we twist into lies
The rotten stench of death
Breeding the swarming flies

God save us from the Hell we're in
Every wasted trite attempt at life
Mucking about in out trash
We vomit up your name in excess
Wasted like our final metaphor



X.Masochism Momentary

These nails they dig as they fall
Bleeding bright sentimental folly
The sky Eclipsed in red
Blind (as) we crawl

Oh The death of me
At the life of thee
Wrapped in tithes and falling free

If I didn't feel such love
I think I would send a rose
Letting the sentiments fly
Rise above like a blackened dove
Flowing tears
No one to hold you as they dry

If it wasn't for the love in my heart
I wouldn't know how to hate
To drive the nail into your hand
The spear into your heart
Letting my word spite and grate
Boasting myself
As your blood dries in the sand



XI.Juxtaposition.

Father, unless you enjoy seeing someone tortured with their inability to express themselves, let me scream this song that has been building for years. Give me an outlet and an expression to vent. Look at me, listen to me and hold me with my tears.

Watch the blood and water intermingle and become one, close as we were, close as we might never be again.

Hold me closer then a breath, keep me beside.
Love me when I am grateful, know me when I forget.
Show me what I know and the pain I fight to forget.
Love me when I'm dry and distant.
Show me a mirror while I deride your name.

Let me see the hypocrisy that knows no bounds, just as much as I see Your love with no end.

Nothing I say will stand up, all will fall back into the mists of eternity.
Except your love.
The bedrock, the beginning, the end.
The only cornerstone, the one rejected because of self adulterated hate.

Be still my beating heart.
The pulsating fraction.
Blood flowing free within and without.
My love for you.

Never to recognize any of these,
just a burning feeling.
The desolate cold of knowing.
Shattered in thought.
Pulsate with life.

Wake, burn.

The words we speak to calm our sin.
Preach flowery words of hate to hide,
the lust, the pride all locked within.
Forget, forgive all for one side.

Comfort, confront all in one sense.
Thoughts, passionless, fruitless endeavors for self.

An orgy of self adulterated adoration.
Meaningless pleasure intermingled with an equally worthless rational.
Corrupted, busted, filtered, brokered self.
Buying and selling integrity with our esteem.
Bottomed out worthless trash of thought.
Skin upon skin upon sin upon that mindless grin without the taste,
the subtle hint of the irony possessed with a phony.



XII. Epilogue

The wind whispers so sweet
Aloft in its own concerns
Swift in dives and feats
Never a concern to those below

The intricate intoxities of such a fragrance
Minds jolting as much as the heart
An open invitation
To be arm within arm
Close as a dance
Burning little darts

This is not why you came
The reasons are posted in within
Lacking foresight into your self
You will move forward only when its possible
To promote and create for the bare sense self
Nothing will be of such a mind forever
Neither You, nor I, nor me nor I.

Speak.

Breath in life.

Breath in me.