free frenching thinkers
tinkering
speaking
this awful thinking
fingers across intl keys
fingers out car windows in a breeze
stinging permanence
as you realize it’s all gone now
like the sun
shadowed weapons
knocking my teeth like kabulcarbomb
these are the thoughts that get ignored
silent sobs
drenched in remorse and rum
piss walls instead of blue haze
this pure sadness
overwhelms
bed half empty just like my life
Posted in Uncategorized on December 27, 2011 by matt questionmark
i started walking without a limp.
Posted in a walk through the deep end of nothingness, collecting ours, i'm afraid of americans, lost in these purposes and collecting ours on November 19, 2011 by tony saputoreinsert to the callous programming
characterizing by the value quo
perishing because i see the end
yeah, i took a while
transfered the energy
whiskey and imposed stubs drained the friends
now i remain a statue before this door
manipulating more gusto and capacity than ever shown
i have no where else to go but forward
hold on you motherfuckers, i am just starting
you will stab me without knowing why
you will hit me when i have bestowed my good graces
you will call me villain
this is the american dream
and you will not see it
until it all collapses
transfer nothing
dilute nothing
sacrifice nothing
occupy everything
we are not fighting just for us anymore
Posted in heartbreak, this living is less than loving on November 14, 2011 by matt questionmark
This closet fetish supplements
The quantifying motives
Of sad suppressors
Filling stations scam for remorse
With this wind blowing black after orange pink orgasms in western sky
With this we spill our senseless banter
Onto barstools and sidewalks
Into hondas and empty bottles of high life
We had the high life.
Now gone like fuzzy math mouth breathers
Fucking our freedoms like BOA does to every account in south Detroit.south America.south Africa.San Antonio.
All the pueblos and hobos.
The discos
Burn the retro
Abort the credit
And forget it
You and I will never have our mazes
Or jeffco motels again
Filled with smooches and Spanish gospels
Sermons only meant for temporary times
Serums to destroy our common thought
Leaving us feverish and distraught Separated by liquidated faggotry
We both fight ourselves when we should be fighting for each other
Posted in this living is less than loving on October 10, 2011 by matt questionmark
sick draining stomach
brings tha noiz
brings tha nostalgia
raping my gums
scraping my feets
sick draining stomach
pushes acid up my throat
flushes out what’s real
flushes out all feeling
wine in blood
blood on shirt
deep cuts depend on
the withering of the soul
smoking a bowl
deep frying the afternoon
indian summer sets
summersaults
dries out leaves
now crunched on boozewalk
now crowding grass
the yearly decay
baring it’s young teeth
baring a bosom of white death
forest
Posted in whore-to-culture on July 15, 2011 by tony saputoquickening i fall short
sail through roots, embers, and the forgotten leaves
turn to mud scrape nails into earth
and come back out with the blood on my hands
i drink, eat, and shit evil everywhere
where have i come from?
where am i headed ?
all this just to bleed and spit bile for a few days
destroy me
where shelters fail
Posted in is it really real?, paranoia, what day is it on July 7, 2011 by matt questionmarkWhere shelters fail
Your wars prevail
Rooftops and bottlecaps
Boomboxes
Reflexed
Against heavy foggy dogs
Their teeth like sand in your water
Their breath watered down for pure percussion
Of the under currents
Of the slander
Of those great soft eyes
Tall drinking walker
From a place of palaces
And fear
The stones of forefathers
Reaping from the raped
But you stand by quietly
But you stand
Nonetheless
In pigshit
In the juice of a thousand cunts
Infected by bee stings and soaring stupidity
Sick steam rises from the awful menstrual troff
Appeasing the sneezing
Slinging the the skeez
Across a gentle humid breeze
Haiku for Nico
Posted in exploding heart, funny noises, is it really real? on June 28, 2011 by matt questionmarkThis new nothingness
Filibusters soft voices
Releasing my growl
Soft Sky Tonight
Posted in heartbreak, this living is less than loving on June 22, 2011 by matt questionmarkSoft sky
Tonight
Pasteled
Loneliness
Humps my
Arse
Making me
So fucking
Tense
Wishing to
Never see
Your eyes
Ever the
Fuck again
But I
Know I’m
Lying to
Myself
My love for
Those eyes
Goes so
Very deep
Brown eyes
Deep like the
Sicilian shit
You are
And my
Love goes
So very deep
Into the
Asshole
Of this dead
Fucking
Romance
My head
Is so far
Up the ass
Of this
Rotting corpse
Of a romance
That I can almost
See the
Budding of the
Flower that
Was our
Temporary
Fuck lust
Posted in heartbreak, is it really real?, what the hell is wrong with me?, what the hell is wrong with us on January 17, 2011 by matt questionmark
So long these courted hugs Lofty in resonance They now
linger too long on the tongue Shifting in window vision Falling out
of good graces Falling And failing to recognize familiar places
Better days ahead They say…..
In Red Wine
Posted in is it really real?, this living is less than loving, what day is it on December 5, 2010 by matt questionmarkintertwined
whilst grasshoppin
through thee
merriment of your
afterlife.
eyed lovers spoke treatments
and humanity kissed my cadavers
7 muscles flex
eating eggplant
and smoking meth for Philip the Fifth
James Beam
Sally Jesse Ralpael.
tell your mothers!
tell Eugene O’Neill.
along the highways
into the mud
eyed lovers intertwined.
kissing in the merriment of mine afterlife.
-july10-
tony saputo
jigsaw rhetoric
elihindman
derek yeager
thirdcircuit
matt questionmark
