Archive for the is it really real? Category


Posted in a walk through the deep end of nothingness, foreshadowing, is it really real?, paranoia on October 31, 2012 by matt questionmark

wincing from the wet lake effect snow/wind
we crawl across coke filled streets
past the drunken wrecks
past the lost fouls
adorned in burberrybossbullshit
we scavenge for lost literature
in the snow filled cracks of reality
lost paragraphs emaciating
with the lack of being looked upon
we scavenge for pizza surrounded by mexicans
adrift in this snowfilth two tabs each
alone in this static and traffic
splicing the thoughts
fucking sentences like wind eats our ears
wandering upon a movie set
and crashing the coffee stand
into hidden staircases surrounded by actors
surrounded by the sudden warmth
of college faggotry
knees capped by roller skates
sliding down dormitory hallways
raping the sleep of 73 students
and attempting to marry each one
awaking underneath a living room table
scraping the drugs away from my eyes
the words written in black before my face: this too shall pass.



Posted in funny noises, is it really real?, this living is less than loving, what the hell is wrong with me? on October 16, 2012 by matt questionmark

vicious lines through the consciousness
they divide the light
they divide the color
sharp hearts
bleeding course dust
cutting the veins of this internal existence
corpse love
the backwards romances that followed
empty as the tank in the car I’ll never have
limp dicking through reality
wishing the past was the present
denying the fact that sometimes things just die
if only we could just get over this whole attachment to others deal
if only dreams were real
/these giant pink slits in the black nucleus of my fullness
of the dark matter
that seeps through us all/
-this all said by a 6 year old me, in singsong voice, walking through the dark brush, in October, he acted out, as if it was a choice-


where shelters fail

Posted in is it really real?, paranoia, what day is it on July 7, 2011 by matt questionmark

Where shelters fail
Your wars prevail
Rooftops and bottlecaps
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
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 questionmark

This new nothingness
Filibusters soft voices
Releasing my growl

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 questionmark

whilst grasshoppin
through thee
merriment of your
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.

Posted in i'm afraid of americans, is it really real? on May 25, 2010 by matt questionmark

skin burn clean off
wipe these wishes willfully
into red wet madness
breaking for breakfast
scantily veined discos
mosquito their way through
our friends
we fall in different ways
these days we never collapase
just trip over our selves
like a bumble bee drunk
after the wars emptied
their spermbatter over our
sunless yestertears
potty training the rain
to make way for
dipping their nuts in black tea
make way for the sensationalists
sipping the mushroom water
forgetting where their fathers lay
their shitted feathers.