From High Places We Shove the Lightest

From High Places We Shove the Lightest

Why can't you fall already?
I've been personal,
I've given,
I've been speaking from that place;
you know that's hard for me to do.
Why can't you fall already?

-Matthew Koutzun

More

More

Get to bed you,
or time will not slip fast enough to fall.
Its bruised its neck
and won't get up.
A tragic ending
for the beginning.

Touch it's throat,
feel a beat,
a rythem- a song:
from the heart.
Oh, now that's the wonderous place
from which we can start.

It's not dead-
no, not time.
Pick him up-
kiss his lips,
there's a tingle
from the spine, where we don't touch the tip.

Breath into her,
it is sex-less,
moving faster;
in the air
and on the floor.

Oh, I've seduced them
oh, I've tricked them
oh, don't tell them
or yell them,
or open the door.

Cause I'm young,
yes, I pushed him,
and seduced her,
and picked them up for more.

But I'm slipping,
and they've
caught me.

Time
is fleeting

and all I want is...

-Matthew Koutzun

(Great thanks goes to Evy, on this poem.)

Violent:Posession:Heart

Violent:Posession:Heart

Stop.
Take those three steps back,
don't come any closer.
I said stop.
Don't touch me!
Stop hugging me.
Stop wiping my eye-
my brow.
I said stop!
You're hurting me.
I told you this before.
Why won't you listen.
I told you this wouldn't work.
Step back.
I told you.
I told you
I told
I told you.
I told you.
Why won't you stop.
Stop caressing me.
My eyes are dry,
Don't make excuses.
Get that hand away.
My eyes are fine.
Don't touch me.
That's my arm.
Not yours.
Not yours.
Not.
Yours.
Not at all yours.
I told you.
I told you.
I told.
Get away.
You do not care.
You never do.
Or did.
Or will again.
I want you gone.
Stop.
Step back.
I told you.
Step back.
Get out.
That is mine.
Bring it back.
Come back.
With that.
Come back.
With that.
Come back

-Matthew Koutzun

Miss Fairweather and Mr. Comebackagain (A poem in broken verse)

Miss Fairweather and Mr. Comebackagain (A poem in broken verse)

Oh, I know and love both of you
in your many forms.
But your pure forms I see so well.
so I must expose you both.

Miss Fairweather
my honest friend,
we share so much and so few;
there's not much you don't know of me.
but you come and whine to me
about problems here and far,
and when I have problems of my own
I can't find where you are.

Mr. Comebackagain you've fooled me.
Many, many times.
You come to me during your roughest hour,
and I'm here for you, there for you,
from the ones who hurt you most.
And revived you leave
and I am hooked on you,
and again your lost from view
off to prove to those who hurt you
that they must love you too.
They never will,
and run to them- you'll push.
Oh, you're not content with me.
Even though I'm here in the end.
Oh, what a fool you've made me,
Mister,
come back again.

I'm left here,
between you,
even though you are both away.
I could take a step forward
and hide from verse,
it follows you know-
like thee.

-Matthew Koutzun

On Loving Two Women

On Loving Two Women

Don't do it my childen:
loving two women.
You won't get what you want from either,
and you can't combine the good qualities of each
to make a whole.

One will get suspicious-
and then the other.
They'll know you're split from them at the table,
and in the bedroom your tounge is tight on names
they can't hear.

You love one more;
but the other you might break.
What love you have inside of you at times like these,
a beautiful love that will help string them along
such a lovely convenience.

-Matthew Koutzun

A singer is a liar- believe what your mother told you

A singer is a liar-
believe what your mother told you.

"Waiting is the hardest part,"
Only beat by the blows of confirmation.
"All you need is love,"
After the food and shelter needed.
"It's not unusual, to be loved by anyone,"
No, not unusual, a rarity in fact.

-Matthew Koutzun

Seated in the Cafe, Watching from 6:53 p.m. - 9:55 p.m., On Davie and Burrard, December 13, 2006

Seated in the cafe,
Watching from 6:53 p.m. - 9:55 p.m.,
On Davie and Burrard,
December 13, 2006

Spy it. 10 O'clock. In the corner. Sitting in the corner. Head swiveling at a lurch a second. Takes off jacket and lays it across chair adjacent. He pulls it back. Reluctantly. Wanting to give comfort. To someone barely known. But still removes it knowing that a stranger will demand. The spot. And phone rings. Answers. Meeting place changed. He blindly chases a blind date.

Empty for a while

Adjacent now holds woman. Smiling with phone. Chats. Smiles. Taps outer thigh in humour. Hangs up. Reachs for paper. Leaving seat.

Empty for a second

Elegantly reads. Man enters. Glances and walks on. She removes her jacket. Inspecting the paper still. Flipping pages elegantly. Another man passes. Glances and sits opposite the room. A lot of reading happens. Man feigns to read whilst his body turned sideways in his chair watching her from above his book. She fiddles with earrings. Oblivious. Licks finger. Turns page. Oblivious. She adjusts shoulder strap through shirt. Oblivious. Pretending to read is fun. Ring. She talks into phone flirtaciously. Her jacket now of the original chair. Adjacent. Hangs up. Smile from the other end. Still dances on her lips. It fades into the paper again. More reading. (I hope there is some parable to this and it's not all in vain). He's here. And her jacket is back on. As well as her smile. Her feet point to him. And his at her. He puts his hand over his mouth. But his eyes betray that he has a smile. Both chairs full. Conversation. Unheard. He speaks with his hands. Like he's hold an orb. That grows as his stories do. Loud laughter from her. Twice. (As an observer I feel creepy). She plays with her nails when she thinks. Pulls off her jacket halfway. To expose covered breasts. "I need to find a guy". (It's funny how selective our hearing can be). Man with book looks on annoyed. Man in chair leans back suggestively. Girl looks him over. And motions with her head they should leave. The seats empty. They go. As friends.

Empty for a moment

Frumpy man sits. Stirs coffee. Unzips pocket. Phone. Sits. Eats. Watch cars pass. Drinks. Seems content. Goes to garbage.

Seat Empty

Returns. Resumes the above. (I start to realize how boring and ultimately quick you have to be to observe someone). (It tries my patience but I force myself to continue). Still nothing new. Still nothing. (I kind of want him to explode). (That might be more interesting. (But only a bit). Now he is staring at the sample girl. Kind of green eyed. She hasen't offered to him yet. She walks outside. He seems less content. (Maybe he wants to explode now too). But now he eats. Content again. (Makes me want to explode). He's made a stack with his garbage. The coffee stick a pole. Without anything to preoccupy him. He sits. Cross legged. He's changed which leg a couple times. (Plot Twist). Foot shaking antsy. Reflective. He bops to the jazz beat. He's resting. Not resting. Leaves.

Empty again
For a long time. They sure look comfortable. No. Deny yourself. (Don't publish this). (People will laugh).

-Matthew Koutzun

"We Are Together"

"We Are Together"

We'll say it-
Scream it-
Yell it-
Shout It-
Whisper it-
Voice it-
Martyer it-
Demand it-
and all with hands:
held.

-Matthew Koutzun

In the Arms of a Giant

In the Arms of a Giant

Have you ever wanted to
change yourself?
By machine,
magic,
chemical,
mere thought of another?

Their control
or yours?
For the better
or worse,
or is anything
but you
better?

Made my muscles bigger-
features handsomer-
hair styled long-
and cried in the arms of a giant,
who gave it all to me.
As Atlas in a magazine did for millions.

Glisened and gleaned,
and gouged out my eyes
because I could still see myself in them,
and cried again
because I still could not feel
the difference,
even with all this flesh.

Cried in the arms of the giant
who could not change me at all.
Bastard- I love.

-Matthew Koutzun

Deft Perception

Deft Perception

Enter grocery store
to follow her.
I weave the aisles
deftly.
Not caring where she
leads.
She stops;
looking at products.
I stop two columns beside her,
"inspecting" products too
but more her.
I make my way
beside her.
She's even better
up
close.
She doesn't even smile
and asks,
"Heavy or light day,"
motioning the tampon box in my hands.
I drop the box!
She laughs.
"Heavy," I say.
She says, "light,"
as she slyly
goes to the till.

-Matthew Koutzun

Transformative

Transformative

Nature
beguiling enough
is sufficent to be fooled,
by layers of itself:
bold.

Image
taken sharply
blends in covered form,
one on the other:
mistaken.

Gender
fused palpable
on nature strained through an image,
the androdgany in design:
fearful.

-Matthew Koutzun

The following was written from my newest experience as being done up as a drag queen as you can see below. It was an amazing experience to have chanced, and it totally helped my views on gender assignment in sexuality in the most laudable way possible. I suggest everyone to try it: be another gender, even for a bit... it changes your view on how one presents themselves, and what is natural for each gender to present. An exgagerated personification of a gender- a beautiful form. The poem surely does not do the experience justice, and another will definately have to be written. This one just doesn't have the attitude I'm looking for- as you can see below- haha.

Make-up and photos by Nikole [ ] (c)2007

All I Got is Attitude- Bitch!

Oh, what ever happened to Faye Ray?
With that satin draped frame?

Here's the fun trick:
Cover up on side-
then the other.
You know it's androdgonously fun!

I just realized this: what a great first time for everyone to see my face...

Speak:Spoken

Speak:Spoken

I was urged today
by God.

I wait for the bus.
It does not come.
My shoe untied.
I see it.
Feel nothing.
Then everything.

I look to see if a bus is coming.
No.

My shoe is untied.
And everything is the urge to tie it.
Everything in me is telling to to tie it.
I don't want to.
But am compeld to.
So I test him.
God.

Internal:
If I tie this shoe let the bus come.

Tied.
The bus rounds the bend.

Internal:
Parlor trick.
But I'm still open.

So I test him again.

Internal:
Speak to me God.

I walk on the bus.
Removing my Glove.
The winter wind shoving me in.
I sit at the back.
A newspaper flaps at my ass.
Stunned.
I turn.
A black man.
He smiles.

Black man.
Smiling:
Going home?

I stare.
Scared.
Puzzled.

Internal:
Which home are we talking about?
Don't you dare.
I'm not ready for that yet.
I'm silent.
Black man still.
He turns around.
Silence.

I'm urged.
I should ask him.

Internal:
Are you god?

Nothing.
I should ask him out loud.

Internal:
Are you God?
Stop messing with me.
I told you I'd be open.
I never thought this wide.
Stop this.
Make it subtle.

Girl on the bus.
Unbundling the cold.
Scarf to the side.
Gloves to lap.
She sits.
Smiles direct.
At me.

Internal:
Oh God.
Stop.
I want coincidence to stop.
Right now.

She watches.
From corner of eye.
All the way home.

But more comes.

The lights out.
The street empty.
Snow frosts air.
Orange accompanied dark.
Empty Civilization.
Gridlocked empty streets.
Highlights slicing.
Beauty alone.
On a bus.
With God.

Off the bus.
I look back.
God in form.
Takes off.

I laugh.
I walk.
I know.

Internal:
It's over.
It's all over.
Come back God.
You scared me with coincidence.
Revived me with beauty.
And now it's gone.

The street out.
Lights out.
People in.
Lone orange light.
Dark empty.
Silent road.
Crunch under foot.
Snow sloshed.
Crisp breath.
Real night.
God gone.
He'll be back.
I hope.
Some day.

Internal.
God?
Are you there?
You've never answered me once offically.
God?
Am I supposed to just believe circumstance?
In splotchy moments?
I want to.
I need to.
I just want to get back on that ride.
I want to ask that man.
I want to make love to you as a woman.
Why is it so cold?
I never knew hands could be so cold.

Lifting.

-Matthew Koutzun

Diahrea Compromise

Diahrea Compromise

Here is when the gay man finds out
that watersports aren't played in a pool,
but in streams of golden showers.

When the lesbian wants to bury herself
in the carpet of another,
but finds it clean and can't stand the smell.

What to do when the straight man can't
find euphora in the hands of a woman
since she won't indulge his asshole?

Oh diahrea compromise,
you'll find a way to fulfil yourself,
if not in one-
then in another,
and then they'll be sorry,
and so will we.

-Matthew Koutzun

The War Ahead -or- Worth it?

The War Ahead
-or-
Worth it?

Contemplating adversity,
worth the effort or charm
to waste the time on unfruitful battle?

Oh, I've differentiated
his thoughts aren't mine,
is it not fair to let others have their say?

Give them say, I say,
and give them a pulpit,
give an inch and make them a ruler?

Censorship is not my way,
but he contradicts himself,
so when would the battle end with him?

Make leave of his inch,
take ultimately the mile-
look back and say you saw him when.

-Matthew Koutzun

Reverb: Nature and Machine

Reverb: Nature and Machine

Across the web in an instant-
tangled as we go,
one side to the other in an instant;
constant and variable tangled.

Enthralled, and exlierated
bondage in sticky strings,
information overload,
emansipating, and taken.

Spaces. Seen see-through,
almost walk through,
even birds are caught
in its binding strength.

Oh the venom, it sweet-
tangling the tounge
in spaces caught,
taken to overload .

-Matthew Koutzun

So You've Beaten Me -or- Into Submission

So You've Beaten Me
-or-
Into Submission

To the punch
To the line
To the ribbon
Left behind.

Winner Circle
Laurel Wearer
Golden Child
Versimilitude.

Lights bright
Blinding suns
Cocking stare
Behind you still.

-Matthew Koutzun

That Middle

That Middle

It's always in the middle
that you find it's wrong for you.
And afterwards the Shakes come.
To your arms and hands.
It looks as if you are still in the mirror.
But you rest your hand on something:
THE COUNTER-HAND
your arm:
you shake,
your eyes were shaking with you.
That's why you looked so still.
But the middle, {takes deep breath}
that middle,
the one you pined for
meddled for
and coaxed over,
is wrong-
for you.
Maybe not another,
but for you
yes.
And the shakes
that shake you now
still can't shake you out of thought;
the ones you have now in the middle-
that middle.

-Matthew Koutzun

Vino Up

Vino Up

I drank Jesus,
red in the bottle,
and warm down my throat.
Bread as a body,
and soft on the tongue,
absorbing to the red vino.
But was he in me,
eminating from within
a deep desire of dreadful deed.
Oh, I am saved,
on the floor,
and the floor is saved on me.
I force him up on white,
and for once am empty,
and hungry for more.

-Matthew Koutzun

Verb Sintax Date

Verb Sintax Date

Pull
Hard
Move
Fast

-Matthew Koutzun

Given a Glass

Given a Glass

Oh,
stop thinking half empty
and realize half full-
or better yet
drink,
and be refreshed.

-Matthew Koutzun

Desert Tastes

Desert Tastes

It is a dry and dirty flem,
that sticks fills cracks to the back
to the once smooth roof of your mouth,
when you discovered the absence of taste.
You bring it forward with your tounge
and squeeze your neck to push it forward,
only to spit it out into the toilet or sink;
a yellow and clear fluid that sticks in cold water.
And you drink something sweet
which only reminds you of the absence
and brings back the thick muck to your throat
that you must travel again to expell.
And sour is only worse in this form
for it nutrilizes and commends the form stronger
enforcing the difference between such loss
and the reminder of there being more than this.
But what finds the horror gracious relief
is only one and the same to the cause,
a delicious demise of liquid emptiness
found everywhere around but one will not drink.

-Matthew Koutzun

The Urgency of Honesty

The Urgency of Honesty

In the urgency of honesty
jealousy rears a beautiful face
of fear and of anger
of not being the center of anothers.

In the temptation of fate
fear makes us calous
of what we have and know
of the center of another.

In the deftness of decision
indecisiveness balances driving time
of how long we are and could be
of the another being the center.

-Matthew Koutzun

A Concentrated Effort

A Concentrated Effort

Beatrice commended me on my efforts
and my terrible steed,
cause she'd seen a man twice the likes of me.

He had walked heaven and hell-
down to icy depths
and up.

But still she thinks him
half of me
because his chest he kept shut.

-Matthew Koutzun

a breath of end

a breath of end

A lifeline from the dead,
and from it a deadlife:
a body filled:empty-sorrow.
A message to one,
and no-one:
a non-entity:life and holy.
A moment spent
and vulenerable:
weakened hard:soft event.
A deadline mixed
and throaty:
raw lung:breath of end.

-Matthew Koutzun

In a Graveyard

In a Graveyard

I keep a tombstone
on my answering machine.
A verbal epitaph,
which you leave,
and that I save till you leave another.

It's a graveyard
of hope,
and of waining
untill there's another
to wain on.

In this graveyard,
you can hear howls,
and muffled tears,
of those still there
and those still gone.

In a message,
from the dead,
near dead,
or those dead;
in ways that should not be,
you can hear those sounds
and others
similar to a beat.

-Matthew Koutzun

Thinking in We

Thinking in We

I want to drop singular pronouns,
good perhaps for war, rungs on ladders, masterbation.
I want to leave them behind-
they hinder me and create deception; in tricking me that I am one soul.
I want to erase them from that book of words,
since they have no meaning in the hot world of love.
And I want to forget those years; they had in my mind,
and start thinking in we.

-Matthew Koutzun

Repent

Repent

ye sinners
lie in the river Styx
relieve you of your pains
many though they are
they have no hold on thee
as the more you have
the more thy shall sink
and wallow
in the river
and forget why thee came
what motives have brought ye here
and lie not breathing
that
forgotten
you knew all along
you'd be here

-Matthew Koutzun

Respect

Respect

I wished to
see speak smell
of sweet yellowed gold honey
and tempered pouched ambrosia
like you.

To sit at your table
eat your feast
and become you
with your
bountiful meal you created.

I filled my gullet
perged my soul
and looked to the mirror
after my stool
I saw me- cried.

I ate again
sweet nectar
even drank it from your lips
I consumed you-
and found you to be mortal.

Still was I
and you be you
and you sat from me
the other side
I'll keep the distance- but close the gap.

-Matthew Koutzun

I Experimented in College; Don't Ask Me Why

I Experimented in College; Don't Ask Me Why

What a lab-
the test tubes are lying
scatt
ered
everywhere.

There was a tube for each one-
of what?
I can not dare to say-
or even to explain;
that would be heracy of the highest regard.

They'd have my head at the institution
if they knew I dived into this research.
It's not valid
they say
It's not fesible
they say,
but what I say,
is that each tube released me.
Filled me with a new e-----n.

I can't say...
because my findings are inconclusive.
They have holes in them everywhere,
not in their palpiblity-
but in that with each bottle
a new hole was made
and only myself
others
and ---
could fill them.
But he's inconclusive around here too.

I tested them all,
and now they all reside in me,
and they were right to warn me;
my mentors.
Because logic can't control me now.
How I f--l now is new,
I could not f--l before.
I want to give it to others,
but who knew that was impossible?
If only test tubes were real.

-Matthew Koutzun

Autoplay and the Ms. Presets

Autoplay and the Ms. Presets

Bang Bang Bang
Autoplay
The Ms. Presets play drums, bass, guitar.
Autoplay holds mic ,
licks the tip-
says it takes better moist.
Ms. Preset 1 says he licks too much
and takes off down off the stage.
Ms. Preset 2 says she can't believe she was 2 to 1
and takes off without a face.
And Ms. Preset 3 says he autoplays too much,
and grasps him by the mic before she leaves.
And Autoplay, to his dismay- don't care,
cause he's stuck in autoplay right now
Bang Bang Bang

-Matthew Koutzun

Frank

Frank

The man was aptly named-
his bluntness rewarded him with a purse:
in the face.

-Matthew Koutzun

So

So

conjuction
of ambiguity,
a word
of hopeful joining
or awkward departing;
having nothing to speak of more.

-Matthew Koutzun

A Forced, Unpoetic, Teaching in Making

A Forced, Unpoetic, Teaching in Making

Know the end before the beginning,
See your beginning and make it as good as the end,
Fill in the rest mindlessly-
by guiding the journey with a light hand,
but when things get rough
crack the whip
and bloody the screen
and set things on course again.

Have your preparations ready.
Having more is better than bringing less-
even if you throw out most of it
the thought was noticed-
don't push
the subject it will come back around
when they ask for it later- proving:
don't throw it all out.

During the action,
don't worry about the past
it will only confuse the present
and consequently-
the future.
But don't forget it,
because just at the beginning must be as good as the end,
the end must match the beginning.

-Matthew Koutzun

The Trouble of Losing Thoughts

The Trouble of Losing Thoughts

I just had this rather coherant moment,
but I think I lost a part of it;
That thing I had to say-
it was there...
on the tip...
of that that thing...
in my...
where...
how...
...

-Matthew Koutzun

Hearts in Hearts

Hearts in Hearts

Break it
Break the thing in your chest
Break the thing that hides a face
Break the thing that keeps you back
Break the thing that holds another's heart

Tissue
Tissue
Rip
Tear
Torn

Release them
They'll help you repair
And you'll have hearts together
Pieced like jigsaws
And glued with mortar
A cardhouse for the ages

-Matthew Koutzun

Bars and Tone -or- Insessant:Beginnings

Bars and Tone
-or-
Insessant:Beginnings

Limbo found us- you- I.
It is in the depths of night,
in libdo crushing, call girl commercials,
missed high school diploma advertizements,
and two hour drawn infomercials.
Watched the weather network till dawn,
they said it'd be sunny,
and there's the sun, peeking the horizon;
is this heaven?

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][]
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Colour bars - 10db tone?nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn
[][][][][][][][][][][][][][]
[__][__][___][___][___]

Shut the curtains-
start the new broadcast day.

-Matthew Koutzun

Models Wanted

Models Wanted

Notice that girl-
especially that boy-

So pretty.
And there is something about them.

Something lasting- longing.
Eyes- unsparked.

That's it!
That's why I'm drawn!

Look: vacant.
It: I'll fill.

-Matthew Koutzun

The Space Between Releases

The Space Between Releases

The space between releases
a dry one
void of epiphany
and ephemeral duality.

Water on two sides
what a shame
to be tied
tether.

A stretch
ache
choke
steel collar.

Throat bleeding
reaching
too ignorant to think
pull the spike.

-Matthew Koutzun

Scratch

Scratch

The beginning
of something new,
is an exciting venture,
a toilet hugging,
nerve tip ends cutting,
throat, heel, back of knee slitting,
that spurts out sheets of joy
and contrasted miraculous pain.

Bandage that
and you have the middle,
and the healing process,
the settling of sand,
the foundation of the blocks-set,
and this is moment,
in all truth,
is when things really have begun.

-Matthew Koutzun

Pretty Pony

Pretty Pony

Oh yeah, you must be really merry,
that look of maurading horror on your face,
from the pole driven through your chest,
protruding from your back up to the sky.

But at least you have the children.
They ride you pretty hard.
You'd think you were a "professional",
I just say that to remind you of the pole in you.

And don't worry about missing out on life-
your experiencing it quite appropriately,
sadly just like the rest of us,
spinning around violently, when we gonna puke?

-Matthew Koutzun

After This big Orgasm

After This big Orgasm

A pivotal moment
to be had
be shared
exclusively by the right hand of God.
Brought down from unmentionables,
crucified onto bedposts,
bound and broken
slept in all day.
Catch my -------
in your mouth
and drink to the glory
of a Zeus in your midst.
Jehovah came
to view it
and sat on the recliner,
and had to have a smoke after.
It was all too much
and now it's gone,
and I sit at home
with these three.
Watching -down to the ground,
you people don't know,
how good you have it,
to relish in life that you live.

-Matthew Koutzun

Sadism's Silence

Sadism's Silence

You're torturing me now
you know?
I kind of tortured you,
but that was an accident baby,
I didn't realized that I neglected your
three
attempts...
I had obligations,
but had forgot my obligations
to you.
But this is too much,
because you're doing it to me now.
And I'm whiny,
and desperate,
and weak,
and saying more than most should know.
Please.

-Matthew Koutzun

Interpretation

Interpretation

I have heard your call.
And now I answer.

You wondered if you truly
understood
the smoke signals;

are they sent in
cherakee,
or Iroquis.

But you know in each
the meaning is the same,

and no Mary of the valley,
will tell you any different,

(even if they are jealous)

because they are enamoured
in the romance that is
cast from flame in me
to flame in you.

-Matthew Koutzun

Give- no, receive.

Give- no, receive.

Must I say it?
I love you?
{insert realization here}
I love you.
Words: no-
please lord,
give me action.

-Matthew Koutzun

Directives

Directives

I'm being direct now,
call me,
write me,
or better still,
hop on the plane
and buzz my apartment
it's room 104
(remember?)
the buzzer number is
027
(remember?)
and I'll let you in,
and if not me,
buzz the neighbour,
he or she will,
even if you haven't met them
just like I haven't,
and wait by my door
in the hallway
in the alcove,
and greet the passer bys
and tell them why you've come:
to tell me everything:
that you love me,
because I'm sick of waiting.

And as a mild note, act as if
I've never wrote this, it'll be
better for me that way, and
wow, you're looking at me,
like, fuck, what strength did
he have to have to do all this,
selfish fucker, the selfish lil'
fucker that you love. Sweetie.

-Matthew Koutzun