My Distraction Caller

My Distraction Caller


On the couch
the elevator doors open,
I can hear them through the flimsy wood.


Silence and the light tap on the door.


Looking up and then behind me out the window
I scurry to get some pants on;
I've been too lazy with myself
and too proactive with my occupation
that I look the poor but promising wanderer part.


The light tap again
and I pause.


I just wanted to be alone tonight
but what are friends for
but to keep you company
and your mind off things.


We'll play the games
and bitch the bitch
and laugh about the things
about the people closest to us.


And when you're gone
I'll go back to my spot
look out the window
and then continue my search again.


-Matthew Koutzun

The Fall

The Fall


I'm walking the streets again at midnight.
Not in the same fashion as before.


I'm leaving friends in the night
and not sneaking around with some amore.


The fallen leaves remind me of the times spent outside of apartments
and in cramped closet bedrooms on a tiny mattress
that we cramped and comfortably jigsawed onto.


I'm walking the streets again at midnight alone
Not in the same fashion as before.


I have bags in my hands instead of yours
and they bite in with weight instead of levity.


The lamps don't light the night enough
and I'm drowning in headphones
playing the moodiest stuff I can to hold onto a feeling.


I'm entering the apartment I keep letting go
because I'm losing the notion that I really have to keep it neat for someone.


I stay up online searching for something
although I never know what it is.


The bed is large and looming
the sheets scattered and sloppy 
from heat and window cold


I'm sleeping again
glad to be in the night and away from it.


I'm walking the streets again
kidding myself we find these things twice.


-Matthew Koutzun

Tiny Bull

Tiny Bull


Tiny bull
rampaging and striking the walls.
Locking horns
and grunting smoke
from nostrils
cartoonish
and boorish at best-


Let's dance.


I've cape
and donned the garb
and my manhood
pressed securely
in obscene sight
will only drive you madder
for all your conservativeness-


Let's brawl.


Dart forward-
I'll lunge.
Move quick-
I'll snake quicker.


Tiny bull
destroying mecca
I'll tie your ankles
and pin you down
and leave you here
to rot-


Let's dine.


Your meats too tough
we've left you now
victor spoils
and fan fare
and forgotten games-


We've played.


So tiny
not worth it
I have bigger bulls
to conquer-


I'm gone.


-Matthew Koutzun

Donning the Beast -or- Honouring the Monster and the Horror

Donning the Beast
-or-
Honouring the Monster and the Horror


The wolf is restless in me.
It wants manifestation.
It wants the mask to be donned
And for me to stalk the woods
to touch myself and others
and rip into the encounters
and darkness that it wants to remember
and let alone.


It was captured
and tamed and tasted blood again
oh tasted and revived
and hunts the forest like a tramp
sprawled and naked
tethered and released
and reaching- aching
for the meat it eats.


Oh the bones are showing
and the meal could be done
but not till the marrow is dust
and everything is striped.


Oh wolf in me,
run wild, run free
and say the vulgar
and the sweet
and the nectar that summons.
And lay in wait.
It will come,
Let us wait.
Prey will come.


-Matthew Koutzun

My Run on Thoughts of You

My Run on Thoughts of You

Fuck I still love you.
Though everyone says not to.
You live across an ocean but even the dates I've been on I sabotage because I think that if you were to know I'd lose any future with you.


I wake to a bed
and hide the pillow cases that smell of you
so that they aren't mistakenly put in the wash when parents come to visit so I have some constant of the things I gave back to you to "forget".


I thought of keeping them
so you'd come back
but I can't be selfish with your time nor your freedom you seeked thousands of miles away filled with experience and new adventure.


I don't want no hard feelings
nor you to have bad feelings from this.
But I long for the support you gave me and the support that I can't find from the people around me and the comfort of knowing you said things to save me.


I- I- I-
and I focus on me again.
Come back and let me be selfish again.
Let me be selfish and take some of your time.
Both of our youth can be combined to make an adult decision here.


I thought I was an adult
but I'm not and I wish you would tell me I am.
But my buts are confusing me as the contradictions are probably now confusing you so please stay but write so I have something to hold onto since you've blocked me on each path to you through texts, calls, and instant messengers- I hold no hard feelings for it, except that I miss you're words and hope you still feel something for mine, and that they don't lure you back here, but make you happy that you can still hold a place in this heart of mine that never can take you out no matter what people say and the pillow i keep to feel another beside me since I cannot sabotage it's affections that I substitute for yours not in desperation but in memory and dream- dream- dream- dream- and run on trains of thought.


Goodnight,
I sleep now
to search the night.
Eyes closed-
mind awake,
windows open
doors locked
and always welcomed.


-Matthew Koutzun

Damn Metaphorical Box Metaphors

Damn Metaphorical Box Metaphors


Trapped in a metaphorical box
is worse than the mime that made it
but it's not imaginary
nor is the claustrophobia it creates
of it's lack of support
or crushing walls of being able to see an outside world
that one cannot touch with invisible bounds.


Walls made with time and change
and hands that press up and brush against them 
to finally see what was forming around
and colliding and expanding
and coming in again
to press on the face and make you face
the lack of support
the bottom of the box has.


Bottomless box
of walls that we support ourselves with
holding ourselves up and losing strength
and faith
that maybe the bottom is the escape in the safety of what the box keeps us from.


Deception and inception of the thoughts you've given
how I hate the indecision and the decisions we can't make in political correctness.


If I had it my way
it would be a bandaid
ripped off and tossed away
and now onto another 
but the transition could be a long time 
before finding the new crutch.


I'm too young to be trapped
in something going nowhere and just for money
when I should be growing and learning.


I won't go down in flames or dramatics.


Just a small letter
and a leap somewhere else.


A leap anywhere.


Even down.


To the bottom that will eventually be there.


Because bottoms are never bottomless in these boxes
and to end is to begin again or so they've said.


So they've said.


But they've said that before
and I'm around in circles again.


Box,
I'm seeing past you.


I'm seeing nail and grain.


And I'm escaping.
I'm slowly leaving.
I'm creeping out so you won't notice.
But I do.
And you will soon.
When you need another.
And you realize you forced me out.
Oh I don't get paid enough for this.


-Matthew Koutzun

Influenza

Influenza



I didn't know this would happen


One minute standing
and not only two seconds later
I'm on the floor boards.


Shaking and grasping around
not able to fuse it all.


I sometimes think I'm an adult
and then I wonder what would happen
without my family or mother or father or brother.


The laundry is piled higher in the basket
than the dishes in the sink
and my fever is getting higher still
and the vacuum hasn't been pulled out in weeks
and work is lying and conniving all the time
and not to mention I still miss you now that you're gone
and can't cool my forehead with the damp cloth
I only thought they used in movies
nor the body comfort of pulling you in during shivers
and away in the heat of this fever.


Oh it's all grappling and I thought I had it all together
but feverish nights and harrowing three in the morning phone calls later
proving I just a child experimenting these doorways
proving I'm just alone here and have nothing to take care of me
my thick skin thinner than it once was maybe because of this sickness
that has left me incapacitated for days.


-Matthew Koutzun

Hidden behind the tree till the 26th

Hidden behind the tree till the 26th

I can't give this gift till after Christmas.

It's that little thing I need to tell you.

The one that makes you cry-

or smile-

or angry-

But want to give you the gift of what there is now

or what there was before things changed again.

The image of a little boy

staring at that cake-

taste on eyes

and anticipation on lip.

Letting you hold onto the thoughts

of holding me in your arms

and imagining the possibilities

that come to every mother-father

as the wonder where this world will lead me.

Perhaps it's led me astray

led me to happiness

that I could find no other way

than the way you led

and challenge.

But look at me

and see that the little boy is there

in the coy smiles

and goofy smirks

and the attention getting pretend

that imagination has still left

and inspired.

The light of night

when we lay together

when I poke and talk

and explore.

I still wait in anticipation

the night of the 24th

and now the 25th-

for gifts both received

and now given.

-Matthew Koutzun

Family values

Family Values

We're hiding it again

and picking it back up

from where it started 15-

maybe 20 years

from where we're

now.

Trying for closure,

I'm opening up doors

that were shut

and nailed

and never sealed that well.

I'm building my room

but mostly the door these days.

Locking has worked well for half

a lifetime

only need to barricade it

half more.

I know what I'll keep it in it

from you

since I learned

from the best

how to keep it all in.

I really don't want this room

but I don't know how to live without it

you've assured me that.

With image and spite

and things half forgotten

though fully remembered

in the tempest.

And the wilding winds

whip and howl

and how my house is treating me well in the storm.

But you two have your two cities

when you should have burned your metropolis

and just laid it all down

when it was.

Because these years from now,

with these foundations you've built

hold nothing but more foundations

on the faults you have bore.

And I can't visit these rooms

or your hallways-

because unfortunately I have my own.

Because I want to shut out truth

and mistake

and fault

and hide those pesky things from you

that will deny me your love.

The walls around me

I see you there

through the window

looking in

through tinted glass.

-Matthew Koutzun

Where I'm lingering

Where I'm lingering

I'm censoring for future judgment
and I'm failing to reach artistic merit.
I've lost the confidence I once held
to do it all and not think twice.

I'm gonna break you spirit
and build you back again
to the towering heights
you were and are.

I'm gonna say all the dirty things
and bless you all with all the nasty fucks
and clean clit and dirty panties
and suck cock and flail flicking fingerings.

I want a future.
I want to fit.
I want people to accept.
But know it's hard when I can be so brash.

I want enterprise
and business
without judgement
or scrutiny.

Does this meaning hiding?
Does this mean covering up?
Does this mean bandaid-ed blemishes
and rosy sweet gumdrop cheeks?


I'm striking balance with matches
and burning thoughts inferno
or perhaps inferior
depends on how you read the text.

But I'm shaking and scared of how I'm perceived.
I've taken some blows .
Fixation on image and the structure I've made
of an image that one could care less about I'm finding.

Grandmas out there, I'm not going to impress.
But I do as long as I keep my mouth shut.
So I'm sorry fags, and dykes, and hermaphrodite(ies),
and sufferers, and fakers, and passionate poetics.

I'm hiding.

I'm scared the sky is falling.

And I'm trapped in the shell again.

And trapped I'm finding a way out.

Seeing this dark predicament I'm in.

Sheldon.

Silverstein.

Where the sidewalk ends-
no one saw your adult works,
which read like beauty
and touch more than hearts-
but our heads,
and our other other heads,
that lay south of our belts-
where all out hands linger.

-Matthew Koutzun

A little of both

A little of both

Oh hermaphrodite(y)
with extra skin where there shouldn't be.
You're a labour of God's love and acceptance.
Labourous
to be no discrimination.

But it's the only thing he's been given.

Oh hermaphrodite(y)
you've been given gifts.

The longing lover of equality
wants dick on face and cunt in mouth.

Weeping for you
I dream a day
when we all can be lucky.

To choose love.
And to grind into
whichever sticky parts we wish.

Oh Hermaphrodite(y)
god of both
and a little of each
bless us with your sight
and adorn us with your blindness
each a bit
and both.

-Matthew Koutzun

A Drawn Out Memory- Wrapped on Chain

A Drawn Out Memory- Wrapped on Chain

It's not fair you still wear it

around your neck

like some sentimental thing

given to you.

Make me angry

make me sentimental myself

wrap it around

and dangle it in my face.

What does he think of it

or have you even told?

Or is it locked away

just like I was like some romance novel

given to you twice

and a childhood memory

wrapped up

and given on a red holiday after the cross.

Are these your arms-

these photos?

Are you stretching to say something only seen

and known by you and me?

Do you come back often

to the past and keep it in reach just to keep sentiment there.

how romantic to deny yourself

when you're just denying me.

Is it torture

or device to coil and wrap.

Or maybe it's just a thing

Just a silly thing.

That only I'm wrapped up in.

Maybe things are just things

and I'm reading too much

thinking too much

like I always do

and did.

-Matthew Koutzun

Did I mention I mention I miss you?

That I wonder how things would have been

if I hadn't been forgotten on christmas.

If I hadn't raised a fuss.

Fussy me.

I can only smile because it's true.

And wear it.

Keep it on you if you like it

even if it's sentiment.

I won't mind.

And finally don't.

-Matthew Koutzun

Crossing out the Scribbles

Crossing out the Scribbles

Crossing out soul

again when I write

Feeling silly and ignorant

to evolution and the

right way of thinking

Feeling childish and immature

thinking heaven and hell

are true

Lost in fact in fiction

of other pre-delectations

of what education will teach

Meta and supernatural

I fins a path back through

star and aura only roll some eyes

But free will baby

with religious dependancies

I know it and divined it knows me.

-Matthew Koutzun