Archive for the what the hell is wrong with me? Category


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-



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…..

mousey hole

Posted in i'm afraid of americans, what the hell is wrong with me?, whore-to-culture on June 18, 2010 by tony saputo

and there it is in the small cell
the small forced hole in the wall
existing  just adjacent to the colliding force of each corner
hollowed out, dark, but somehow looming
staring directly at you as a mournful yawning tick, a dreary edifice reminiscing of each and every loss
come to the light of day through patient gnawing intertwined through necessity
the rodential, damn parasitic nature of it all mocking and counting down days to months to years

today a girl tells me she is lonely
lost in the wrappings of her past twenty something years
walking in the hands of a man
a father, a friend, a lover, a muse, and a disease ridden predator….
it does not matter
they really are all parts of the same beast
but the masculine identities are nearly another curtain for the illusion, the smoke and mirrors, or hell, possibly the smoking gun if you learn to really look at it directly
it really is all the same

for after all, who does not exist in these rooms
stuffing all the passed up ambitions, unspoken notions, regrets, apologetic self persuasions, and terrors in every hole we can
in every ear that will actually listen
on the billboards down the freeways
in the silence of the writing
in the sickness of violence
on the headlines of televisions
in the tones of our hellos
in the speck of our hopelessness
on the faces of every last dollar bill
in the dreams of our ancestors
on the tongues of bigots, politicians,  drunks, and womanizers
in the actions of harlots, barflies, and the beautiful people
on the shame in our very sex
in the drooling fangs of humanity
in the holes of our walls
exist our real fears

today a girl tells me she is lonely
tomorrow i will say nothing and watch yet another soul solve a lifetime of honest work with the perpetual downfall of a five minute solution

insomniac luvs

Posted in what the hell is wrong with me?, what the hell is wrong with us, whore-to-culture on March 6, 2010 by tony saputo

what is it called when you cannot stop from laughing???
when you see the punchline before the joke is spoken?
what is it?

i rescued a woman from the bruises of her love
shouldered the tears of a dying affection
caressed a soul of compassionate need
lived for someone besides my ownself
each and everytime the joke was on me

the bruises, filled in by her words and actions, drawn the line straight to indulgence
the shoulder so easily forgotten when new affections spring, and raindrops of whisky and vodka seam down her windows
and the soul to caress, the soul i could live for, forgot me long ago

dreamed myself as a fool for so long
not recieving the message, not placing the focus on all the right parts…
you see, the world is an evil and dirty harlot, and she wants to remind you of these dark passages from time to time…
she loves it… as the lady loves the fist. as the corridor slams volumes of acceptance, as the confusion arises….

she loves to be beaten and loves to beat back even more….

when a man tries to uncover the path of unconditional love, nevertheless the very existence of such a paramour, this earth will rise against him and threaten every inch of his being, to prove he will do what it is he needs to…

and time to time, we fail
dreaming of the better ways
hoping for the window from our inferno
kidding the world; kidding ourselves

in the mirror, i would rather be called insane -than ignorant.

Posted in paranoia, Uncategorized, what day is it, what the hell is wrong with me? on February 16, 2010 by matt questionmark

o! damaged thought process
chaining me to slaughtered cities
impoverished by indifference
pummeled by pestilence
annoyed by aneurisms
this hilarity is too much for me to bare
this hilarity
this fucking joke of an existence
i’m just waiting for my face to be slammed into the mirror
blood and flaws
cowering in slushy STL streets
constantly surrounded by what was and what won’t
hoping no one will look
hoping no one will make eye contact
out of fear that i might have to acknowledge
the icy deafness that surrounds me
and speak.


Posted in heartbreak, paranoia, what the hell is wrong with me? on October 5, 2009 by tony saputo

cold metal and these taste buds meet in agreement
and the anticipation is really what kills you
i cannot wait to end this
or go back another twenty four hours
sometimes all you need is a different pair of hands to cradle your head


Posted in guilt in the serenity, heartbreak, paranoia, this living is less than loving, what the hell is wrong with me? on August 26, 2009 by tony saputo

let out that sigh
accept it is not what we dreamed
because it is worth so much more

please realize me
all i ever wanted
was the iris that could never ask for anything else