Matt's House

Matt lives on Watkins Street in a little duplex behind the SigEp house. But Matt is not a frat brother. Because Matt is my brother. And I don't like to share. 

Sometimes people forget that houses are for living in. Matt is not one of those people. Matt's house is very much alive. 

Most walls are built to keep people out. But the walls of Matt's house were built to bring people together. 

You see, Matt is my best friend. His house is a sanctuary. It sits near the corner of Watkins Street, beckoning anyone with a story to tell, and a sense of humor to tell it with to come on in and stay a while. This is why Matt's house is my favorite. Around every corner lies a different story. Whether its the empty pizza boxes propped up against the sink, or the man-a-kin with a jack-o-lantern head screwed on crooked sitting on the end table- There is always, always, always a story. And I happen to be a big fan of stories. Which I think is what makes us such great friends in the first place. 

Not so many times have I been to Matt's house yet. But the times I have have meant the most. Matt's house is one of those places that  seem as if nothing can go wrong while you are there. You are nothing short of invincible- no matter the odds stacked against you. And this is why Matt's house is my favorite. I'm safer there than anywhere else in the world. 

Sometimes I get homesick for Matt's house, even as I'm lying in my own bed in my own room. There's something just too formal about majestic windows with swooping drapery-  not messy enough to support the life of any real human being. These are the kinds of rooms that people who do not feel go around "living" in. And I am not one of those types of people. I am a person who feels. 

So this is why Matt's house is my favorite- It was absolutely made for people who feel. 

Matt's house is far more than a duplex behind the SigEp house on Watkins Street. Matt's house is a home. And Matt's house is the home of my best friend. Which makes it the home of so much more. 

                                                12/29/2010

Statement of Education

Restless Pens and tired minds

Exhausted thoughts trailing behind 

Jet lag of the brain is the ultimate climax

So much more to go

Never ending sleepless tremors 

Always parallel structured tenure 

Frequent lapses of unfitted rest 

Pass on,

Pass on this final exhibit

All I ask is a moment of silence

To reminisce in solemn quiet 

But there is so much more to go.

And all they want is perfect product 

Molding my work to fit requirements 

That I’m not sure who put in place.

Following rules, equations, formulas

This is the secret to success. 

Would we have electricity if Franklin had followed the rules?

Who would have given us the car had Henry not defied society?

Thus, success comes only in great rule breakers

No, mediocrity does not satisfy the thirsty soul

Succumbing to popular opinion never got anyone anywhere…

Yet this desk lamp grows dim as the sun sinks to hide beneath the stars

And mind grows weary under harsh conditions

Over informing is a day-to-day happening 

And hands rub raw in frequent use. 

But with baggy eyes and weary soul

Books stack up in quick succession 

And though hearts ache for hurried relief,

There is still so much to go.  

"Define my heart and call it yours;

Remember the light inside my eyes, 

Cherish the firework stares.

Burn your breath upon my skin;

Pull me tight into your dreams, 

sing me deep for all the world. 

Wrap me up and love me silent;

Weave your threads between my fingers, 

Paint your life onto my walls. 

Seal my lips with vibrant color; 

dance through swirling starless skies, 

catch moon tears from falling black. 

Paste my soul into your flesh;

Squeeze me into existence,

show me the wholes inside your heart. "

                 *But still I ask:

                 What happens when it's over? 

       What happens when the sun rises and sheds light 

                           on this 

                     bittersweet tragedy? 

                  What will we have become? 

*Please rid me of these memories, 

            and give me the emptiness I long for. 

Scars

Bleeding remarks pierce my soul.
                
                      *But you are alive in me.

Say what they want, but when the time comes
only we will know whats best.

I'm terrified of the mistakes I will make tomorrow-
               for anxiety is a force to be reckoned with.

But no one can cross these lines we draw-
          *When will we learn stubborn mindest gets us nowhere?

So speak in colors of burnt red & August yellow-
Paint me a kaleidoscope of heartfelt remorse.

Travel across time and erase cruel words from all consciousness-
Let the sunset on presentday troubles.

Take my scared heart and cradle it in your palm-
recognize the sown-up stiches from wounds you first inflicted.

And when time has passed and the stale air becomes fresh again-
Take my seared hand and let me stare
                              into your sorrow-glazed eyes,

Then cry in out in silence as I hold you gentle.

                                   * And finally know we are new again.

Purple Chalk Smiles and Summer Memories

The last memory of summer is imprinted on my window. As I approach my parked smoldering car, a vision of that most exhilarant night comes swimming back into my soupy thoughts. A beautiful reminder of shinning eyes bright with the radiant joy of youthful exuberance, nothing ever fades so quickly. But as the sun sets upon the heat of August, I almost cry as that lopsided purple smiley face stares back at me, its beamy little chalk eyes pentrating my hardened soul.And as I recall the times of our disolving summer; the nights we spent laughing deep into the night; the concerts and the lake trips and the neverending rummy games- I smile. 3 familiar faces materialize behind my tightly shut eyes, filling the empty spaces hiding between the memories that are already becoming stale from reminiscing much too often. Instantly my heart bleeds at the thought of letting go of our days in the sun. The realization that these beautiful moments will fade into the background of our busy Fall sends instant panic pulsing through my heart. And though for a while my bones will ache with the faint noise of stale laughter falling to the ground amidst the browning leaves, I know that nothing could ever replace these waning moments. As a single tear flits across my eyelashes and rolls fluidly down my flushed cheeks, I once again come face to face with that loaded symbol of my entire summer. The purple smile sits silently upon the tinted glass, glistening in the sun. And though it will fade and rain will come and wash its shining smile away, forever will its meaning be imbeded in my heart.


*Because nothing could ever replace these times-
                          
                                    These times we felt alive.

Night Sirens

*With one foot inside the open car door and the other planted firmly on the slick, gleaming pavement, I realize I'm stradling a decesion that has already been made. I contemplate the stars dwindling silently above the screaming city streets as I wish one more time for a sign. With a slam of the car door, I find myself staring out at the moon. Craters seem to mirror the exact image of my silent stone heart, casting their glowing shadow upon the crowded sea of faces below. As the car pulls away from the curb, I faintly hear the sound of aimless sirens waning in the background. And still I cling to the idea that somewhere out there, you're doing just the same. 

Leaving

 *Fill Up my Heart with 

                                          ancient TIMES   and   

                  Lost   goodbyes,

                                    *Please wait on my reminiscent sorrow. 

*Dont Forget 

            to grab your bags,                          

                                                 put out  OUR TRASH 

                         & call a cab-

Cause the morning's but a night away, Love;

                                                     *And tomorrow's gonna come too soon.