killer

there’s a killer
out on the loose,
making the rounds
from house to house,
but still getting away
in the broad daylight,
killer of the mind, and
killer of the soul, out
taking the creativity,
right in front of us,
but we can’t find a
way to stop them.

went over today to
my friend’s house,
and there he was,
forlorn and dull,
his body laid still,
no blood to be seen,
but the damage had
already been dealt.
no longer was he the
bright, happy guy,
painting life in his way.
instead, here he’ll lay,
never to be the same.

rain poured down
as i left the house,
“who would be next?”
i started to ponder.
am i at risk here, too?
will i end up falling and
never getting back up?
this neighborhood has
become far too dreary,
dangerous and scary,
i have to get out now.
i can’t lose what i’ve
worked hard to build.
run as fast as i can,
and never look back.

no, wait,
i can’t do that.

i have to help out,
track down the killer,
save the street from
their dastardly acts.

but, i can’t,
i’m not strong enough.

or am i?

freestyle

crashing as i type
on this keyboard
because my brain’s
in free-fall as i try
to keep going but
i can’t begin to even
rhyme like i want to,
tried to switch it up
and change the flow
but i’m so broken and
my brain can’t make
the good shit happen.

guess it doesn’t matter
what the fuck i’m on
or how i’m feeling now
because the world won’t
fucking care until i die.
let me grab you a box
of kleenex so you can
properly enjoy these
words you didn’t care
to read when i was here.
“he really wasn’t okay,
he seemed so cool! damn!”


let’s not forget about
the execs that’ll be
blinded by the dollar,
bombard my computer
looking for the shit that
i never put out so they
could make the money
i’m not making off of
the words that i write.
i write these to convey
the shit i go through,
but the guy in the suit
takes the soul right out.

gotta wonder how we’re
living when we can say
the best advice to give
to an artist trying to
put their work out
is to go off and die.
“congrats on giving it
your heart and soul,
we just hope that you
get to see it blow up
when you’re six feet
below the ground.”

start to wonder the
point of all this when
it feels more like i’m
talking to a wall than
a group of people that
want me to succeed.
“never give up” starts
to feel like a ruse when
it feels like the promo
gets more hype than
the poems i put out.
funny how that works.

six stanzas in, i’m
ahead of myself,
hard to slow down
when my brain is
going haywire now.
feeling like i wanna
leave this planet and
pull some hermit shit,
but the new joint has
to drop at some point.
probably self-destruct
trying to make it happen
and half the people i know
won’t give a shit about it.

but fuck it, let’s go.

10. anger

yeah, i embraced the anger,
you wanted different? well,
let’s chill with the sad shit,
let’s flip the bird at everyone
that does us wrong in life.
gets bottled up for too long,
sometimes you just gotta
unleash the inner beast and
get it all off of your chest.

gotta release it sometime,
it’s only gonna hurt bad,
just like you did when
you made me this way,
time to be unapologetic
and embrace the anger,
for once in my life, it’s
time to say how i feel
and not question if i
have to say sorry for it.

like drizzy said,
this new me is
still the real me,
it’s just time to
be a harder me.
time to say just
what i think and
stop having to
feel like i should
apologize for it.
don’t like what i
have to say, well
fall back instead,
i don’t need you
bringing me down
or silencing me.

this is who i am:
i’m anxious, i’m crazy,
i’m messy, i’m bad,
i’m annoying, i’m clingy,
i’m happy, i’m sad,
i’m shitty, i’m great,
i’m dirty, i’m clean,
a mess of emotions,
everything in between,
and if you don’t like me
then get the fuck out,
don’t need all the hatred,
puts me in a drought,
i love who i am, flaws
and all, yeah i’m glad,
and if you do not, well
that’s just too bad.

your loss, anyway, i’m the shit.

9. don't push a writer

don’t push a writer,
we’ll charge right back,
we’re not afraid to put
your shit on blast.
you break our hearts,
you get us angry, and
you piss us off, then
we throw you right
under the bus for
the world to see.

we make you characters,
we put you in our world,
poetry would be tmz if
we writers were bigger.
we may not punch or
get in physical fights,
but we make it hard
for you to fight the words.
to all the deadbeats,
the users, the cheaters,
the abusers, the assholes,
the manipulators, the bullies,
the people that just wanna
put us through bullshit,
we’re not afraid to put you
on blast for the world.

whoever said that
words don’t hurt
should shove a
stick and a stone
up their asshole.
words hit hard,
and we know how
to smack them
in your faces.
we know beef,
and don’t even
hit me with that
shitty 3oh!3 lyric
about vegetarians.
we’ll make enemies,
embrace the anger,
and make you wish
you never hurt us.

don’t push a writer.

8. ghost show

i’m a one-man show
in the poetry game,
write and publish it
all by myself and i
don’t need any help
making my words hit.
this is the matt a show,
come along for the ride,
it’s just me myself and i
when i write these down.

i dig the collabs,
i’m honored you
wanna put in work,
but this ain’t the place
to divide up the pie.
and i’m not with the
ghostwriting bullshit,
who told you you can
write my lines for me?
i got love for the poets
talking how they feel,
but how you doing that
if you don’t write shit?

and i’m not here
trying to diss, no,
who can i diss for this?
but here’s a lesson
to follow if you want
to get into this thing:
don’t call yourself
some kinda poet if
you got some ghost
doing the damn work
while you sit and watch.

write from the soul,
write from your mind,
don’t take some shit
from that other guy.
he didn’t pour it out
and work his ass off
for you to just take
and fuck with it all.
let nobody take away
the power of my words,
let no phantom arrive to
write them down for me,
i’ll just stay me and keep
putting on a show, while
you puppet around and
cut up with the ghosts.

this is me.

7. humble

let’s talk for a minute
about this stuff here,
my success and words
and all that i do with it,
let’s talk about how i
react to the poems,
you know i come alive
when i’m writing it out,
and i’m not even scared
to pipe my own poetry up.

“he’s so sweet,”
“he’s so humble”
fuck that shit, man,
i’m so selfish with it,
poetry king right here,
can’t take my crown.
who’s dropping as much
good poetry as me, huh?
can’t name them because
they don’t exist, that right?

and you know no one’s
gonna pipe it up for me,
naturally i gotta love it,
a lot goes into the words
that i write out for these,
and even if none of you
want to read what i say,
i’m still gonna push it,
better learn to love it.
i’d rather peak in college
with my amazing poems
than peak in high school
with shitty ass diss tracks.

yeah, i want the love,
you see what i do,
160+ in over a year,
can you do it, too?
and what the fuck
is burnout, huh?
cut that shit off.
i’m not with it,
i’m not leaving,
i’m not stopping,
i’m not quitting,
shit’s not ending,
it’s better now than
it’s ever been before.
better get used to me,
i’m sticking around,
not a damn person’s
gonna take my crown.

6. dirt

hold up a second,
all this is so angry,
and even if it’s not
meant to diss any
person in particular,
someone will take it
just as it is, so what
do i do if they want
to try and fight back?
what if they want to
talk shit about me?

well, i’d like to see them try.

know that you’re
never gonna find
no dirt on me, i’m
always the first to
right my wrongs,
try to diss me, get
egg on your face,
who’d you say can’t
fight that all back?
chances are you try
and find shit on me,
i’ve already owned it
and handled it, yep.
you wanna dig up?
don’t even bother,
i’ll spin it right back.

already said it, i’m gonna
put my mistakes on display,
i’d rather learn and flourish,
man up from my shit and
be a better me tomorrow.
so good luck finding dirt
that you can spit at me,
can’t go find something
that just doesn’t exist.

and i’ll send a warning,
this isn’t just about me,
you fuck with my friends,
i won’t hold back, either.
b learned it best when
i wrote two of these,
i don’t let anyone slide,
no matter who they are.

you made her upset, and
they said you were toxic,
don’t fuck with a heart
and don’t be a prick.
i’m done sitting quiet
and watching friends
get hurt by you bitches,
don’t let me hear that
you fucked them over.
i may seem nice and
i don’t look like i can
throw many punches,
but you fuck with me
when you fuck with them.

so just don’t.

5. thirty

hmm…
maybe for this one…
i’ll bring some rhythm…
go back to the old style…
if it rhymes, it rhymes,
if not, just stay in time…

let’s try it.

old enough to be
my brother but
you’re crushing,
what the fuck?
you’re thirty,
that’s so dirty,
thirsty for me,
starstruck?
what the hell
you think i am,
some goddamn
teddy graham?
“he’s so cute,
bet i can scoot
myself right
in his dms!”

fuck you think,
i’m gullible?
adorable but
i’m not dumb,
lovable but
push me and i
get angry, don’t
be a crumb.
yeah, your boy
has flow, i know,
i saved it for the
perfect time.
creepy guys who
try to slide get
pushed away,
get out of line.

yeah, you’re nice,
you rolled the dice
but i just gotta
keep it real.
young blood like me
think it’s creepy
that you’re out here
with the feels.
find someone
your age, please
step away, and
i will let it slide.
just know i know
who to phone, so
for your sake,
you’d better hide.

yeah, i like that…
i had to say it…
shit’s real and
it’s crazy, dude…
grown people like
crushing on me…
it’s just so weird…
like get that shit
out of my face…
act your age,
not mine, you know…

let me get off this one.

4. thirsty

oh man…
ohhhh man…
yeah, let’s talk about…
priorities for a second…
some people have ‘em
all mixed up, you know…

okay.

so where were you when
the last album dropped?
nowhere to be seen, huh?
where were you at when
i reviewed “sweetener?”
couldn’t care less, huh?
you guys make it out
when i celebrated my
tenth poetry album
just two months ago?

no, you didn’t.

so where were you?

what’s this i see from you?
that’s your 13th like on my
17th selfie in 45 days, but
you won’t support the boy
when he puts out his art?
i get that i’m pretty, and
i’m glad that you think that,
but where’s the support for
a kid doing his writing?
you leave it at the door when
you went thirsting over the
last few selfies i posted?

not tryna sound ungrateful,
i’m glad you like my looks,
but i’m not your sex toy.
i’m not here to give you
some shit to jack off to
when you can’t sleep,
and you got yourself
some 4 am sex thoughts.
how about you guys try
thirsting for my albums
the same way you stay
thirsting for my selfies
and the shirtless pics?

yeah, show me that, okay?

3. loyal

i wanna know what
it really means to
call yourself “loyal.”
who are the people
that can really be
“loyal” to you?
because i start to
question just how
loyal you are now.
how much do you
even care for me?

where were you at
when i was at my
absolute low point?
didn’t even care to
check up on me, huh?
what about when i
thought i would die?
were you the one to
twist the knife in me
or take the killing shot?
how about when i felt
like i would give up and
never feel happy again?
did you laugh at me when
i wasn’t looking your way?

i wanna know who’s
really loyal to me,
who’s really there to
catch me when i fall
and who’s just gonna
pull up a chair and
enjoy some popcorn
as my body drops.
i wanna know who’s
worth fighting for in
this fucked up world,
where everyone hates
and kicks to the curb,
where no one loves you
until your six feet under
and they can’t mooch
off of your kindness like
they would always do.

2. fuck you

who said a sweet boy
can ill out sometimes?
anxious everyday now,
too damn broken and shit,
well, let me tell you this:
i’m not about to keep quiet
and act like a saint no more,
i got some shit to say here:

fuck you to the ones
that tried to fool me,
took my social flaws
as a sign that you
could mess with me
and think i wouldn’t
notice a damn thing.
acting like i’m just
some stupid-ass kid
that doesn’t know
my left from my right.

fuck you to the ones
who tried to strip me
of all the confidence
i ever had in my life,
sent me into a state
of complete sadness
for months on end and
made me forget how
to get excited to be
unapologetically me.

and fuck you to the ones
that played with me
and fucked with my
feelings and all that,
made me think that i
was really special but
sent me to the shithole
when i didn’t expect it.
thanks for giving me
nothing but trust issues
with even my best friends
because you couldn’t
just be decent people.

can’t sit around and act
like everyone in my life
is a paragon of love,
when all they really want
is to hang me out to dry.
yeah, i’m getting angry,
tired of the bullshit now,
if you’re think you’ll use me
and drop me like i’m hot,
let me tell you something
before you even try it:

FUCK YOURSELF.

1. fire

yeah, the fire’s lit…
angry matt’s here…
hope i don’t lose you
along the way, just…
have to get shit out…

yeah.

so i bet you weren’t
expecting me to go
angry with this one,
“oh, he’s all sad and
he gets in his feels,
how angry can he
possibly get, huh?”
well, let me just start
this thing off by saying
you can fuck yourself
if you think i’ll make
a shitty album now.

don’t tell me i can’t
unleash the anger,
i’m tired of being
afraid to speak out.
sat here in sadness
for too fucking long,
i’m tired of everyone
fucking with me now.
the people who act
like i’m cared for, when
i’m a means to an end
until they find someone
that’s better than me.
the people that thirst
and only care for me
if it means i can post
a pic without my shirt.
and the people that try
to discourage me from
being who i want to be,
kick my ass, you pricks.

yeah, i’m taking it there,
i’ll tell you to kiss my ass
and go fuck yourself now,
because i’m tired of feeling
too scared to speak, and
i’m tired of always feeling
like i can’t get angry with it.
friends will turn to enemies,
“i don’t like this new you,”
well, fuck you too, then,
if you don’t want me to be
unapologetic for once,
then don’t let the door
hit you on your way out.
these are my words and
no one will take away
the power of what i say.

ill preface

i guess surprise releases are fun sometimes. my 13th full-length album is "ill." this album is far different than my others, in that it sees me embrace anger and frustration, more so than sadness and anxiety. tried not to overthink it, enjoy.

1. fire

2. fuck you

3. loyal

4. thirsty

5. thirty

6. dirt

7. humble

8. ghost show

9. don't push a writer

10. anger

12. "one year"

september 15th, 12:00 am,
about to drop another new
full-length album right now.
one year after writing my
very first free-verse poem,
i’m on album #12 and
poem number #155,
or is it #153 since i
didn’t release two?

what a journey this
whole thing’s been.
once a kid just here
writing his feelings,
letting out shit that
shows the sad side
he tries not to show,
now i’m out and i’m
thinking of concepts
and combined themes,
who’d have thought
i’d be doing this all
in just a year’s time?

i brought out everyone,
come along for the ride.
watch as my heart breaks
and then fixes itself up,
watch as i work through
constant stress and fear,
watch as i try to learn and
figure my anxieties out,
watch and be glad as i
feel myself and get hype,
watch as this crazy-ass
roller coaster called “life”
takes its twists and turns
without any clear way of
knowing which comes first.

it’s been a trip, and
i’m glad that it was,
i always want to try to
make the best of it.
i thank you all for
reading and joining,
for making bad times
easier to deal with.
so where will we go
over this next year?
give me some time and
i’ll tell you the tale.

one year.

11. "i'm not okay"

conflicted album here…
did it get angsty or
was i just tired, huh…
start to wonder but i…
i think i have an answer…

another single-night album,
heat of the moment and i
just felt like total shit then.
didn’t even tell my mama,
i didn’t want her worried,
thinking i’d take shit far
and risk my life over it.
mood for the day was
way on the down-low,
started just days before,
summer winding down and
it wasn’t a perfect one.
most solitary, lonely summer
i’ve had in the longest time,
i just couldn’t wait for it all
to be done and over with.

very rarely was i out
hanging with friends,
and those few times
i did leave the house,
i couldn’t let it show.
gets tough to put on
a face of happiness
when you don’t feel
much joy whatsoever.
death hits real close
when you know who
was taken away, and
heartbreak can never
be easy to deal with,
even when your heart
gets repaired soon after.
writing it stopped me
from puking all over
my bedroom floor.

but i’m thankful for it,
and i’m thankful for
the work i put out,
because had i not,
the happiness would
probably stay away
even longer than that.
no matter who read,
be it 200 or just 2,
i had to let it out.
right after it dropped,
the good vibes came
rolling right on back,
so even if this one
is lowest of the low,
i’m glad that it helped
get me back on my feet.

yeah, i don’t remember…
an album with no resolve…
this one didn’t, at first…
or at least i didn’t write
how it would resolve…
i’m glad it did though…
gotta love how that works…

i’m not okay.

10. "polarized"

you know…
i thought that the
last one would be
tough to follow up…
i changed my mind,
this one’s tough to
follow up on for me…

10th album down,
my child is here,
tackling shit that
most wouldn’t think.
not easy to speak on,
no matter the time,
i wonder if people got it
when they first read it.
tried to make it known
through the titles and
cover art, but i don’t
know who picked up
the theme that i had.
few people talk to me
about my work, so i
never have a thought.

bipolar.

i hated the album,
went off of a simple
online test, and you
never can trust those.
just sat in my basement
across one night and
wrote out these poems
of self-love and self-hate.
what did i think i would
get out of the project?
more time to wallow in
my own silly self-loathing?

bipolar.

it’s a great album,
even if it was a test,
you never can take
anything for granted.
chose not to sulk and
went in one night and
just wrote out poems,
both happy and sad.
it was a good way to
talk a little about it
without giving away
every tiny detail of it.

you can see how my
brain just wanders,
one minute i’m happy,
one minute i’m sad,
two opposites collide
and come crashing in,
but i’ve dealt with it all
and i keep on pushing
because life’s got so
much to offer to me.
when you’re stuck in
shit that’s got you down,
you always got to find
ways to manage it all,
and it’s never bad to
let it out through art.
just keep going strong
and don’t let bad things
knock you off the throne.

yeah, tough topics here…
not easy to talk about but…
i think i did it well, do you…
i don’t have a long ad-lib
for this one, unfortunately…
but man, i love this album…

polarized.

9. "big kid"

growing up, just…
shit’s scary, right…
i mean, that’s just
how it’s supposed
to be, but it was…
just freaking me out...

let’s talk about it.

beginning of june,
rough times for me,
summer wasn’t really
going all to plan, and i
had way too much time.
all i can think of was
my fears and anxieties,
and one month before
the big 20th birthday,
i should’ve been hyped,
but instead i was scared,
didn’t wanna grow up,
didn’t wanna feel older,
didn’t wanna let my youth
escape from me, either.

i had to let it out.

i wanted this one
to be different from
my others times.
syntax and font can
change the meaning
and shed new light
on the words you write.
but lost in translation
were some of my goals.
the blog couldn’t take it,
all the quirks and edits
didn’t sit quite right.
the message was there
and the work still hits,
but i wish it looked just
a little bit different now.

the words i wrote,
i’ll love forever,
i did something
different with it
and it worked.
but i wish it had
gone more to plan
when it got put
out to the world.
but end of the day,
the words matter
more than anything,
so i’m glad this one
ended up so strong.
it might forever be
tough to follow up,
but i’m glad i can be
proud of what i wrote.

that was a sad one…
but it was needed…
had to just air out…
speak on my fears…
that’s what makes
these poems so great…
let shit out that might
not be dinner-table worthy…

big kid.

8. "electric boogaloo"

this was another one
i wrote on the toilet,
just for the giggles.

7. "king's back"

who tried to say
i wasn’t confident…
too anxious for that…
well, not for nothing but…
i am the poetry king here…
soft boy’s got shit to say…
you know he’ll go say it…

let’s do this.

sometimes, you gotta
change things up a bit,
gotta let the world know
you can brag a little bit,
show them you got shit
you can hold up high.
“he sits in his room and
gets anxious all the time,
how can he sit and brag?”
well, there’s real shit that
soft boy can be proud of.
small victories to others
are big wins in his eyes.

how about the fact that
his words hit harder than
the ones that write raps?
how about the fact that
the soft boy can put out
such a large quantity of
high-quality work so quick?
how about the fact that
the boy’s not afraid to
be unabashedly him,
regardless of the real
negative judgments
that may follow him?

yeah, he got his flaws,
yeah, he gets sad easy,
yeah, he’s always anxious,
but the softy can still go
brag about himself a bit
and leave all his readers
waiting for the next project.
doesn’t matter if he’s up,
doesn’t matter if he’s down,
the boy says stuff that will
stick with you after you read.

there’s a reason soft boy is
the “poetry king,” because he
gives it his all, no matter what.
declining views? doesn’t matter.
too much at once? no such thing.
same-y topics? still makes them hit.
call it basic, call it oversensitive,
call it a mess of his anxieties,
call it whatever the hell you want.
he calls it his pride and joy, and
he’s gonna keep pushing at it.

yeah…king’s back, indeed…
didn’t know he left but…
the crown’s all his now…
keep putting in that work…
never discourage yourself…
you’re gonna have the world
right behind you one day…
i promise you won’t fall…

king’s back.

6. "party time"

the end of an
awkward phase
with this one…
didn’t know where
i’d be going with it
before this dropped…
this one saved me…

71 poems in and i
only wrote about
the real events,
all the shit that
broke me down
and made me feel
like a total mess.
what if i went and
wrote an album of
fictional poetry,
instead of the usual
stuff i’m down about?

i just wrote an ep about
sadness and heartbreak,
and 4 solo poems about
being broken and scared,
why not make something
that’s not all about me?
i got the cover art for it,
and the concept to match,
the hell am i waiting for?
let’s end the awkward phase
with no full-length albums,
“am i taking a break or am i
gonna keep pushing content?”

well, i pushed content.

kid goes to a party
he’d rather not be at,
it’s all good at first but
everything turns to shit,
his heart breaks just as
soon as it fills, and then
all the magic is gone when
his peers force dance on him,
pour alcohol all over him, and
leave him on his lonesome once
the hypnotic electro music ends.

it only took a day, but i
got what i wanted, and
suddenly, my motivation
was back in full-force.
the awkward phase of
“break or no break” was
finally gone, and i felt
ready to keep moving.
and the numbers went
and spoke for it, too:
40+ views on each poem
4 days after the release.
just like the album itself,
it was party time for me.
let’s celebrate the wins,
the blessings, the success,
and the crown of poetry king.

yeah, party time, just…
album saved me, really…
wouldn’t be here right now
telling the story without it…
one of these days, maybe i’ll
write another album like that…
tell another fictional story…
different perspective, you know…

party time.

5. "all in the mind"

i literally wrote this album
on the toilet, just for goofs.

4. "i'm still me"

right back at it now…
this was a massive one…
almost like a super-album
given how long it was, you know…

gotta love it.

two months later,
bit of a long time,
surprisingly enough.
when all you drop
is just one single
and a mini-album,
the world starts to
wonder when you’ll
drop the big project.
the small stuff starts
doing the numbers,
then you want to give
something bigger to
keep moving strong.

well, i went bigger.

so much drafting in
such a short time,
all these new ideas
came to me at once,
and even with all of
the anxious poems,
i got to mix in some
optimism with them.
the whole journey
had a positive end,
not everyday you’d
see that in my poems.
hell, i was out here
writing poems about
a mouse, and i still
loved every word.

only thing i regret
is the release date:
didn’t do numbers
even though it was
my biggest project,
hyped it up more
than other ones,
but midterms took
all the attention and
rained on parades.
views and stats aside,
i put in the good work,
poetry king in top form,
and it still hits hard.
some albums hold up
better than the others,
and i don’t think this
will lose that luster
at any point soon.
i’ll look back and say
“glad it wasn’t bloated,”
and be thankful for how
it helped me stay strong.

i’m still me, you know it…
no way i’ll stop being me…
always gonna push to make
more great albums like that…
guess bigger can be better
every once in a while, too…
just gotta keep it focused…

i’m still me.

3. "cooper"

this one…
this’s gonna
hurt a little…
not so easy to
talk about him…

alright, let’s go.

december 18th, real
early in the morning,
mama wakes me up
after minuscule sleep,
she wants me to be
with you for a little.
i wanna sleep more
but she tells me that
it’s time for you to go.
i’m about to spend my
last minutes with you,
our final little cuddle,
the last time i’d pet you,
the last time i could say
“i love you” to your face.
she comes back to me
to take you from my bed,
“bye-bye, puppy” are
the last words i say.

i wish i said more.

i fall back asleep and
i wake up to a text,
mama told me that
heaven opened up
and brought you in.
we spent 12 years
in love and joy, but
now it’s time to go.
i couldn’t do anything
but write that day.
dad cried all day,
bro didn’t love it,
mom hid the pain,
i hid in my room, and
the only way that i
could comfort myself
was to write something
dedicated to you.

and life honestly
feels weird now
without you here.
there’s a new boy
roaming the house,
but he’s not quite as
open as you are,
at least not to me.
he loves mom and pop,
but won’t run to me
like you did before.
know that you’re
never forgotten,
your picture hangs
right above my bed,
so you never leave
my memory ever,
and my love for you
never goes away.

i don’t even have time
for a long ad-lib here…
that one drained me…
i miss you so much, bud…

cooper.

2. "what happens"

yeah, real talk…
tryna make this album
confident and all, but i…
i got some regrets here…

yeah.

you ever make something
you love and hate all at once?
you ever look at a body of work,
and think about how great it is,
but think of all that it’s missing?
you ever wish that you had spent
just a little bit more time on it, and
gave it a little more polish and love?

if you’re an artist, i’m sure you have.

first half writing all these
crazy great poems about
shit i never spoke of before.
insomnia and paranoia, and
the people you said hello to
but never gave a goodbye.
i made my case for being
the poetry king before, but
second album, i was ready
to steal the crown for myself.
spent so much time on it, and
gave it all the love it deserved.

but then, i stopped.

phoned in the last half,
wrote ‘em all real quick,
and i’ve written a lot in
a little bit of time before,
but this shit was worse,
pushed through the end
while sitting in a classroom,
end of the semester, i was
shit out of luck, not sure
where i wanted to go next,
it was heat of the moment,
and i can’t believe that i
got a competent product
out of the whole thing.

felt like i spent more time
taking pictures of school
for the cover of the album
than i did trying to really
finish it off with a bang.
what should’ve been a
massive, gigantic project
looks like missed potential
when i think about it now.
and i made matters worse
when i said on the album
that i didn’t want my dog
to die, and then he did,
wasn’t a week after i
posted the album that
buddy was put down.

pretty shitty christmas break that was.

i wanna look back and
be proud of what i made,
every album should be
special in its own way,
but that’s the one that
haunts me to this day.
maybe one day i will
look at it and love it,
but that’s not today.
though it did teach
one valuable lesson:
if you’re gonna write
a lot in a short time,
make sure your work
is the best stuff ever.
it’s gonna take time
to really love that one.

real talk…
what happens, just…
thinking about it kinda
got me in my feelings…
like…shit, i jinxed myself
super hard on that one…
album still hurts today…

what happens.

1. "freedom of the verse"

man, first album…
so many memories here…
mostly bad ones but damn…
how much i’ve grown since then…

september 15th, 1:58 am,
she didn’t want me but i
couldn’t fall out of love,
ran to the notepad and
typed something out,
no rhymes, no rhythm,
just straight thoughts
about love and want,
i was ready to wait
my whole damn life
for her to be ready.
should’ve read the
writing on the wall,
but i fell too deep,
don’t tell me twice
attachment was and
has been my demon.

but what started as
a single piece about
my love for this girl
grew into a bigger
body of work that i
didn’t imagine i’d
make in short time.
just over a month to
write 10 poems for
a full-length album.

i didn’t think so, either.

it wasn’t just about the
crushes and infatuation,
it was an exploration of
hatred and anger, and
a side of me i hadn’t
shared with the world
back then, because i
just seemed like the
happy-go-lucky kid.
“he’s always so sweet,
he loves positivity, too,
is there a negative bone
in that sweet boy’s body?”

truth be told, there is, and
there’s a lot of anxiety, too,
all that and more popped off,
you wouldn’t think about it
but the frustrations grew and
the doubts swirled in my head.
sing along if you know this,
the overthinking occurred.
it was all there and more
on my first body of work,
and i’m still proud of it.
wouldn’t have thought i’d
put out more than that one
back in october of 2017,
but the first one went and
pushed me to keep at it,
work hard and do my best
with all that i’ve been given,
diverse set of poems there,
yeah, the topics were varied,
and while you don’t become
a king off of just one project,
i think i made my argument.

yeah,
freedom of the verse, man…
still special to this day…
gotta love when the album
that gave you your start still
hits hard even after so long…
timeless poetry…timeless…

freedom of the verse.

one year preface

to coincide with the one-year anniversary of when i wrote my first poem (which was “my dear,” might i add), i decided to write a new full-length album “one year.” i even went a little longer with it and wrote 12 poems instead of my standard 10. it’s basically a celebration of every full-length album (10 or more poems) that i’ve written to date, where i basically talk about the thought process that went into each album and basically take you behind the scenes of what inspired the albums, what i think of them now, and more. it’s also a slightly more confident album, and it does feature a few more touches of braggadocio sprinkled in there. i’ll give some brief descriptions below.

1. “freedom of the verse” - the first full-length album i wrote. this one dealt with a diverse range of topics, from heartbreak to anger to even some political messages.

2. “what happens” - my sophomore album. this was one i actually had a few regrets about, which you’ll see in the poem.

3. “cooper” - obviously, an album i wrote about my dog, who passed away in december of 2017.

4. “i’m still me” - my longest album yet (well, tied with this one), and an album that even touched on some weird, unexpected topics.

5. “all in the mind” - my first troll album.

6. “party time” - my first attempt at telling a fictional story across an album, and my first real attempt at making an album where you have to read the poems from 1-10 to understand said story.

7. “king’s back” - a much more confident album that sees me bragging about myself, and my standing as a poet.

8. “electric boogaloo” - my second troll album. i said i’d be a failure if i didn’t make a piece of art called “electric boogaloo,” so i did.

9. “big kid” - a much weirder album structurally, but one that showcases me in a vulnerable state, being scared of growing up.

10. “polarized” - an album that touches on a very difficult topic that i’m not sure many people picked up on: bipolar disorder.

11. “i’m not okay” - an album where i hit my all-time lowest point, and pretty much was not happy whatsoever.

12. “one year” - it’s a poem about the album you’re reading! yay!

start

one year later, and i’m
right where i was then,
hopelessly devoted,
stuck in this state of
endless attachment,
just setting myself up
to be broken in the end.
love’s a vicious cycle,
it’s hard to escape from,
your brain says to stop,
but your heart holds out
for that 1% chance that
everything goes right.

there’s no logic to love,
it’s all in the feelings,
once you fall too deep,
there’s no going back.
and here i am in bed,
lying to myself again,
thinking that one day
we’ll be together when
all i’m doing is letting
myself get hurt more.
everyone asks why i’m
so distant these days,
“matt, are you okay?”
i tell them i’m fine, but
i’m really broken inside,
i feel like a fuck-up, too.

it’s hard to hide it all
behind a smile, but i’m
trying my best to do it.
every time i look at us,
i feel like this all could’ve
just been avoided if i had
known what to say before,
lowered my walls for once
and actually let you in
when you wanted me to.
now when i come around,
it was too little too late,
and i’ll never be with you.

why do i always do
this shit to myself?
the king of letting
a good thing slip,
always having to
think about things,
never able to just
go with my gut,
try something out,
always a bad cycle
and it destroys me
in the very end.
wanted to pass out
while i was in class,
i’m in so much pain,
and i wish i could
just stop feeling.

fuck my emotions.

dear everyone

dear mom,
i’m sorry that
i always look
like i’m sad or
mad at things,
and i’m sorry i
tell you “i’m fine”
when i’m really not.
i just don’t want
to make a big deal
out of my shit, and
get you involved.

dear dad,
i’m sorry that i
wrote that poem
dissing you before,
i didn’t release it
but i still read it,
heat of the moment,
had to let it out,
maybe i went too far,
and i know it can hurt.

dear brother,
i’m sorry that i’m
always an ass to you,
i know it’s what brothers
do to each other, but i
feel like i overstep and
don’t even realize it.
i get too harsh and i
end up hurting you,
physically and mentally.

dear best friends,
i’m sorry that i’m never
the one who texts first,
i’m sorry that i can’t
make exciting plans,
do exciting things, and
give you the love that
a best friend deserves.
i’m sorry that i always
talk down on myself when
you always pipe me up,
and i’m sorry i can’t just
take the damn compliment.

dear crush,
i’m sorry that i can’t
fall out of love with you,
and i’m sorry i’m not
the person you want.
i’m sorry that i can’t be
stronger and less wimpy,
i’m sorry i’m so stubborn,
i’m sorry i always find
ways to fuck things up,
and i’m sorry i couldn’t
just say “yes” when you
had feelings for me before.

dear people crushing on me,
i’m sorry that i always push
each of you guys away, and
i’m sorry that i get even more
awkward around you when
i don’t reciprocate feelings.
i’m sorry i can’t just ask for
a little bit of space from you
because i’m so worried that
i’ll hurt you and cause drama.

dear future wife/husband,
i’m sorry you’ll have to deal
with this emotional mess for
every single day of your life.
i’m sorry i’ll drive you away,
make you want someone that’s
more capable of keeping shit
together for more than a week,
i’m sorry i’ll end up so clingy
that you’ll get uncomfortable
and tell me to go fuck myself.

dear everyone,
i’m sorry you see me here,
saying words of self-loathing
over and over and over again,
and i’m sorry i don’t try to
just fix my damn problems
instead of writing them down.
i’m sorry that i can’t drop
another project where i just
brag about the great things
and forget about the sad things,
and i’m sorry that i tire you
with my repetitious themes.

dear me,
i’m sorry that we’re
back in this hole again.