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

Between Crossed Legs -or- Let me be a Sexist one more time

Between Crossed Legs
-or-
Let me be a Sexist one more time

Two pink lips
two inviting pink lips
parting the flesh sea
pearl oysters
and honey parade
speaking to me
horizontally
as we dance
oh we'll waltz
and jig the pieces
from your trees
picking such sweet fruit
from the other lips
that speak other sweet things
and some that are rotten naughty.

-Matthew Koutzun

One Handed Books for Two Fisted Men

One Handed Books for Two Fisted Men

Read like a novel
but spoken like a poem
here's the one handed book
for two fisted men.

Taken up in private
and held stiff - pages crisp
here's the book for one hand
for the men with two fists.

Broken in sweat
and soaking just right
here's to aggression and anger
and forcing it tight.

Here's to moments of pleasure
in finding sweet pain
of knowing your own secret
and reading it again and again.

Here's to the one handed book
for two fisted men
it's read by few
but it's read again and again.

-Matthew Koutzun

ADULT Supervision

ADULT Supervision

I'm under house arrest again.
Locked in and out from contact.
I need my adult supervision
or I'm gonna get in contact with old sources.

Slippery slope,
I've met you,
climbed you,
now I feel like sliding back down.

It's funny because I get so serious about it all
seriously think I'm the victim and play dumb
and when I think about how I really was
I see the humour in playing the game.

Who was I fooling? Fooling myself.
Not even I, because look I've caught me.
I'm under house arrest again, needing supervision
because the phone is off the hook
and the internet is connected
and I'm searchin' for old sources in the yellow pages
and directories online.

"I'm sorry so-and-so, forgot your name once I left you.
That's good you're doing well and your kids are doing fine.
That's great you're back on track- pity that-
no, never mind, it's nothing. Me? I'm doing nothing.
Just sitting in a bath tub bathing- maybe misbehaving.
Over in an hour? Better shower."

Click, whip, and skip the messages on the phone
as I hang up and forget they're coming over.
Maybe they'll meet each other downstairs-
I've only called a few from the past;
maybe them all.
And they can all look at each other and after an hour
realize how pathetic they really are.

"Hey, boys and girls!"
I'll shout from my window as they walk away,
"I'm really not that bad- you know how good I am,"
as one flips me the finger,
"you know I know what to do with that!"
and off they are again away.

But none of that's happened
no evil happy after
only sitting and waiting for anyone of them to show up
cause I'd be grateful.
I'll take the slope I know,
it's better than the devil I don't.
And we all know the devil we're after.

Now take me on in
give me adult supervision
spy me up and down
and see past the grin.

-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.