Matty See Poems

This is my snowstorm. This is my mind's eye, consumed by its own dying winter.
Written for the same reasons that I won't pray to a savior, that just may or may not even be there.....

My thoughts are a train-car, their process derails and I'm left with just flames and graffiti.
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Are you afraid of death?

I feel like that question is dressed so fancy, it would have to change clothes for me to stop dancing with it.
Pause.....
...

Our love is airplane glue. Its melts in discontent and only leaves me dizzy. Our embrace like plastic parts, the smallest dropp shatters promise to pieces.

I can't explain our traffic jammed toast to the Gods that leaves holes in my morality armor. The sword I made for you out of compulsion, feels too good leaving my stomach to even defend against.
...

Speak quietly windstorm.

Your razor blade tornado has cut my blue depth to the compassion muscles.
Sheltered in this insecurity bubble-bath, where the warmth of tears could bleed out my slow release artery.
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He picks nicotine Chiclets with crucifixion splinters.
Wonders how Lady Justice can balance judgment with one leg longer than the other.
Heart turns to a gavel clock; waiting to strike 4 years after midnight.
Prayer-beat catches fever from reality sickness and he tries to stitch the seams with amen Band-Aids.
...