To the Feeler;

To the Feeler;

I've done what you're doing
and there's no need to fret
we've all confused feeling before.

You've been in one place so long
that coming out
you're going to experience a lot more.

I've had my ole' misery love
and I've had the taste of it true.

And with both of those
of the one I would choose
it's a bit of both
taking the best of one
and the longing of the other.


You've told me before you don't understand feelings
but look at you now,
ever the feeler,
you're the expert now
feeling the worst in yourself
and needing to find it in others
so you'll know you're not alone.

Look, he is sad like me,
he must be my soulmate.
The only people who understand me
are the ones with crushing despair.
Pity me and them,
we'll band together and throw a party
where we all cry
and spout deep ideas
for shallow people
confusing metaphors
and laughing at those who we think are beneath us
because they're positive.


So be it,
I can say we've all been there
but there is an after
and when you're there
I may be waiting-
but probably not,
because I'm on top of a world
and it may be my own
but it's happy
and content
and good things do happen
and people do treat me well
even though I may dwell at times on how they don't.


So take your age and fuck yourself
because you hold it like a lighted spire
to hold over others indefinitely
even though you know the torch is always passed to the youth.


Are you happy at my frustration?
Of my blowup?
Of my breakthrough?
Of a leaving you?
I bet not,
but I bet it'll be something you can
joyously
add to the bonfire "sadness" inside you.


Before the "feelings"
I rattled you
insulted you
insinuated about you
embarrassed you
and teased you
and was a lousy pig.
To see if I was like the other loves who destroyed you
if I'd be let into your heart
and the wondrously cruel thing
is I've never seen you more sexually charged.

You want to be hurt
and you don't want nice things
and you don't want to be helped
or you'd help yourself.

I can't help you-
I tried
I don't want to anymore
no wonder people want to leave you
and only hang on if they're on the guest list
for your pity party and misguided help.

Is this feeling enough for you?
Is it firm enough for you?
Is it everything you wanted and more?
Light a match and blow it out
or better yet
set yourself on fire
when you have nothing else to burn
because it's gonna be a cold night in Alaska
when the matadors call the bulls
and the horns spear and trumpet
for a new
glorious
and amazing day to come.

But forget all that-
it'll only be dark for you
and you can stare at your wall for three hours
before finding you have any self worth.

Congrats-
put on a party hat
and sleep.

-Matthew Koutzun

To the Enforcer and the Feeler;

To the Enforcer and the Feeler;

There is an interesting way of feeling feeling
you may not have discovered yet.
You touch and caress but you missing some point.
Your idea to invoke a feeling on another when there may be be none
seems wrong to me-

But you're adamant you feel something.
and are laughing because you think I feel none-

because rather then get caught up in what you're trying to force upon me
I'm content in having my own.

You feel feeling has to be antagonistic
and the way you try now to manipulate what I'm feeling inside
is bordering on a battle
but why would I get frustrated and blow up at you?
Because that would mean a breakthrough in your eyes
someone feeling something other than what they just may be
just because it's negative.

I wonder how you're world is now
and how dark it really is
and if you really don't believe that one can be content
or live without strife for one part of life or a moment
and I feel something.

-Matthew Koutzun

Untitled

Untitled

And you- what are you?
You don't look like any other vegetable I've found in my garden.
Nor fruit.
You. What are you?
Don't shy away.
You're dark and tough and not like the others.
But you're in my garden and that means you're mine just the same.
Does that make you feel good?
Does that make you warm inside?
I bet it does.
Do you wanna be with the others?
No,
Well we can sit here and wait till you're ready.
You need some time to grow?
Well don't we all.

-Matthew Koutzun

Hallway

Hallway

Done it millions of time over
down the river hallway,
nothing but bare feet and faith-
need it in this dark.

Hands feeling walls,
and feet bumping furnace.
There's a nervous notion
but safety when we remember.

It's life with destination,
near the end,
or cloaked in darkness doorways;
to the left or right.

But onward, straight we go-
silent, barefooted in the night.
Faith and cool wood boards beneath us
we're all gonna be alright.

-Matthew Koutzun

Seated in the Chair at table 5

Seated in the Chair at table 5

What will I be
when my body's failed me
When I cannot do
what needs to be performed
and cannot raise my arms
to be heard?

Will I fear
my body's ailing
settle into a darkness
of cold and extreme heats
inner fear?

What if my mind should go?
And the days ache long
and I can never remember when I've slept
and the people I remember have left me
though still beside me
and I perceive I'm all alone?

What shall I do?
Will I sink into silence?
Will I meet the weak like myself
and band together in loneliness' spite?

Who can fear the reaper
when and if my body's failed me
before I go?

-Matthew Koutzun

Spider in my Eye Line

Spider in my Eye Line

Driving home,
spider in my eye line.
It crawls the dash
and stops periodically out of reach.

I want to hit it-
smash it
take it-
flick it out the window I just rolled down
and trash it.

But it's there plucking about
darting into vent and out
spinning web
down from dash to floor
and has vanished.

The night has darkened everything
and I've lost him from sight
only the light from head lights flashing
front to back
front to back
give me any light to the situation.

And staring to the floor mat I look up
having crossed a lane,
but it's 1:37 in the morning
and the cars are sparse
and sparser still
now that they've sped away
to get away from my
swerving discretion.

But the spider gone
is where everything else is found
because he is on me
I can feel him on me
or perhaps he's waiting next to me.

I feel tingle
and touch
on me
and in me
and my eyes strain darkness
to find the spider.

I want him there
an exact there
rather than an everywhere,
please, not everywhere.

I look up and focus
but hairy legs consume me
and my eyes are back on the floor
the dash
the clothing he could be tucked into
next to me.

But why am I afraid-
what harm could he do-
they say there is a spider
always three feet away from us at all times-

...
fuck, why do I have to think.

-Matthew Koutzun

Things that Never Die

Things that Never Die

"Honey? Hun," waiting patiently for a response, "Honey?"

No response, just eyes on the road.

"Pull over," she demands

"I'm not pulling over," he says, finally breaking the silence.

"Just pull over."

"I am not pulling over."

"Pull over right now."

He looks out the window to his left, rolling his eyes, catching her reflection catching his. He pulls over- hazard lights blinking.

They sit in silence as she pulls down the clothed sun visor and flips up the mirror, light blinding her face. He watches her as she pulls out a tube of lipstick and carefully applies it to her lips.

"Parties over, put it away." He looks away again, how many times do you put on a face?

"I asked you a question back at the last turn and I expect a response," capping the lipstick and dropping it into her purse. The clasp clicking, he looks at the purse and then at her in non-response.

"I asked you a question," she repeats.

"I know you did."

"So?"

He looks out the window again.

"Stop looking out the fucking window, and answer the god damn question: what the hell do you see in her?"

"Jesus Christ," he murmured, "you're gonna wake Susan up." He checks the rear view mirror to see the kid's asleep.

"I don't care," speaking softer, " what do you see in her?"

Silence, so she starts again, "I don't know when I started to notice, but today it all started to click. The way you watch her."

He had watched her.

"The way you sometimes throw her name out in conversation."

He had mentioned her.

"So why can't you answer my question?"

"Because it's not a question you want answered."

"You pressured us all into going tonight, so the least I deserve is an answer. I look at you gawking at her just like everyone else and it makes me sick. I look around and see them all smiling forward at a little sweetheart and how do you think that makes me feel? You- looking at her like that?"

"Do you really want me to answer?"

She looks into the mirror and wipes the lipstick off her teeth.

"How long has that been there?"

"Do you really want me to answer?"

"I don't know, whatever... it's pointless now."

"Fuck, I can't take this. I'm sorry Edith I gave her my attention tonight, she's just the star of the show for fucks sake and a friend of mine, so I thought we'd show her a little bit of support. And Jesus, you always have to make these things about you."

"All I asked is do you think I could do that? Do you think if I had continued singing I could be up there? That I could be on that god damn stage."

"What do you want me to say Edith? That yes you could be a star? That yes if you'd have worked harder you could of made it? I'm not going to play these games."

Her reddening face looks out the window before she slowly, with care, pulls out each word, "I sit out there, and I see the lights- the colour, and the sound -the music, and I see the audience -when I look back, and I start to... -inside I wonder why I'm not up there, why I've wasted half my life, and where and what I've done. Where did it go Jerry?"

"I don't know Edith. Ask your daughter in the back seat."

She looks out the window again.

"Just drive me home."

He pulls the shift back into drive as he makes his way down the road again, high beams on. She leans back into the seat, resting her head against the glass , thinking to herself, an audience clapping in the background.

" I could have been. I just could have been."

-Matthew Koutzun


Wow, it's been some time since I've written a short story, so I hope you enjoy.

When I go to Someplace Hollow -or- In the Old Oak that Drops Forever

When I go to Someplace Hollow
-or-
In the Old Oak that Drops Forever

In someplace hollow
the air is dry
it is still
and dark
and even the smallest things don't grow.
Someplace hollow
germs do not exist
there is nothing in the air
void of all and nothing
someplace hollow is a hole.
The more you put in
the more it takes out
and things have trouble finding ground
with nothing to hold onto
the walls stretching further with each grasp.
Forever in a fall
and black all around
close your eyes
and jump up right now
and pretend you're suspended in mid-air.
Because falling doesn't feel like falling
once you've experienced it for sometime
like swimming still
in stale stagnant
water.
You have lots of time here
in this someplace hollow
deepening around you
it's hard to remember
how small it was when it started.

-Matthew Koutzun

Hold Onto Your Children

Hold Onto Your Children

"What's in your gunnysack Mr.Devall?"
"Your children," he'd say
And they would laugh-
Until they got home.

-Matthew Koutzun