Matthew Christopher Poems

One morning we both forgot how to speak.
We painted bold colours
in thick lines
to express ourselves.
...

A man who made a fortune selling something he hates died last night.

The abyss that once threatened our world is now limited
to a small mouth with room enough for only its teeth and a tied tongue.
...

Walking home, I saw through a basement window.

It was
like dark
...

I taught myself to paint
remember, life
in vain, recreate, youth.
...

One by one they sparkle, my lures, my bait;
the stars: my blanket under which I dream
dreams that restore nothing and never let me rest.
...

1
Even babies wake up scared.
When they're older they'll learn
to stand and grab the cagebars
...

The Trabant leaves its cramped garage,
it leaves behind a small pool of colour.

Headlights,
Streetlamps cut the mist that hurts its rusted shell.
...

At fifteen she understood pleasure.
Now an old woman,
she has only the memory.
blotches of pleasure bleed into her mind
...

I want to feel nervous, sweat.
I want to be uncomfortable, forgettable
I'd lose.
...

Berlin,
Wedding district
a Landlord throws out an old renter
...