Wednesday, December 4, 2013

A Little Truth (This Is Not a Love Poem)

I'm going to let this one breathe on it's own...

A Little Truth (This Is Not a Love Poem)

This is not a love poem.
This is a truth poem.
This is a poem about how I think.
How I feel.
How I am.
This is a truth poem about it all.
The truth about how when we started talking I wasn't looking for anything.
Not anything heavy.
Not anything like... you know?
A relationship.
Friendship absolutely.
When you get along you get along.
But the rest?
Well you know?
Then a funny thing happened.
I got excited about talking to you.
Even more about seeing you.
Every time I'd get either my my heart would...
Wait, no.
I mean to say that the stars...
What I'm trying to say is birds sing...
No. Fuck the flowery poetics!
What I really mean to say is this:
I fucking love you.
That the truth of this poem,
The truth behind all compliments,
The fact that what I say only puts to words what is there.
It's not just how I see you.
It's you.
This still isn't a love poem.
It's a truth poem.
A truth poem about impact.
The truth of two people.
Affect, affection, cause and effect.
That sometimes life does throw a break.
That collisions aren't always damaging.
The truth that I know what I've got now.
What I'm capable of.
The truth of what you are.
Not just to me, but what you really are.
For all of it, in no small way.
I love you.
And that,
That is the truth.
This is the truth.
This is still not a love poem.

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Mental Health Trilogy: Part Three - Identity

Finally, I'm posting part three. This one was considerably harder to write than the other two. On many levels, I honestly have no idea why. On some levels I do. I believe we're all looking for ourselves. That search will always run next to and bump heads with the perceptions of others and that influence on our lives. As selfish as it may sound, but really isn't; at the beginning and end of every day, a person's main priority has to be him or herself. That's a struggle. This is a piece of mine. With that, I now know why this was hard to write. That said, I think it's time to stop the intro, and get to the poem... 

Me Vs. Matt

I am everything everyone says I am
Kind, good, funny, giving, laid back, calm, closed off, walled, emotionally unavailable, an asshole. 
At one point I was trying to figure this out
Trying to find out which parts of that list are true.
Fact, I'm all of those things.
And then some. 
Trouble is people so often see what they want.
They see this goofy and friendly guy
This guy that's always laid back
So laid back that he isn't going with the flow at all.
So laid back he IS the flow.
But wait a minute!
I'm having a bad day actually. 
Some shit has been piling up on me...
and I'm... 
Oh, sorry. Nevermind.
I forgot I've got this idea to live up to...
But I've got a situation
I'm in this fight here
It's me against Matt
I guess you could say it's a fight for my life.
A fight that needed to happen ages ago. 
(I swear I heard the round 1 bell)
See, I am all of those good things.
That's not even a choice.
Just who I am.
Like a twofer, the rest comes with that though. 
I can be down
I can be hurt
I can...
Aren't you? 
Guess what though?
I'm not always going to be OK.
Not always going to be good with giving and giving
Giving with no acknowledgement
No seeing that I can have a shitty day too
That when that happens, I might not be happy about it.
That when the shit hits the fan,
When my day is rocked, 
That it might carry the same weight as a good day. 
That it might even be heavier.
I feel everything.
Honestly, sincerely, wholly.
It's tricky, some don't want to believe that. 
Because when they do, it's accepting I may need help too. 
And God fucking forbid another person is part of why I hurt.
It's duel punishment for that.
How dare I be upset or hurt by that? 
"Until you feel better, I'll lay low Matt."
I had no interest in solving shit anyway. 
Don't worry, the happy goof will move on.
Because I forgive so quickly.
Forgetting never.
Even when details can't be remembered,
My heart keeps the tab.
Right there is where my reasons live.
The brick layers.
The architects.
The wall gets built there. 
No matter how out going.
How friendly.
How caring.
How loving.
How giving.
How warm I am.
These bricks are thick.
So fucking thick.
So fucking thick I can't see doors or windows. 
They're in there though.
The way is through some Temple of Doom,
Booby traps and all for anyone that comes in.
Myself included.
The heart beats on.
The heart beats on.
I know these walls aren't forever. 
I know they aren't.
I hope... 
I also know how I'm seen -
Goofy, kind, smart, laid back, sensitive, giving, loving...
I know what I hide -
Anxiety, sadness, hurt, scarring, dents, damage, insecurities...
Who I am is not a choice.
I'm everything everyone sees me as. 
And everything unseen too.
This is who I am.
If I'm up.
If I'm down.
There's a ton to have. 
Tons more to learn.
Tons more to learn.

This is who I am.