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

Filling up, Departing -or- When I'm Full- I'll Start Over

Filling up, Departing
-or-
When I'm Full- I'll Start Over

Looking inward
I splinter
too many tangents to follow.

Taking one,
I take another,
feeling the others following
and there are places I don't want them to go.

I slip past them,
tangling them in sunshine thought
or a gem of time
and occupied they leave me be
so I reach deeper.

Deeper delving
passing shelving of thought
departmentalized so I could find them and polish them
and put them back.
I have the worse with the best
and I told myself I'd clean them out and start over,
but just haven't had the time.

And I'm full
and cluttered, and sitting on the ground
the glass around me
I don't seem to know the good and which the bad.
I've pulled them out
out of sight
and I just checked my lists to see if I'm gonna be alright
tallying the moments I can't redefine.

And if I could change- would change - will change- can change-
and if I could earn back how people outside would
could feel
about the things
good
bad I hide
but I can't so I'll just start back over
and take my sweet time
because if the storage room is empty,
then baby, I'm not full,
so surely this must be gratitude for
it's the easiest way I'll go.

-Matthew Koutzun

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