More randomness….

Sitting here drunk and high

Wondering if this was the moment things changed

The moment looked back upon

With future eyes

Or maybe I’m just crazy

Worried that I still have not a clue

This whole life

45 years

Laughter, pain and tears

I still have no idea

A light that cannot be hid

A black that already did what it was bid


I am weary

still doing well

some days I fall down

some days are hell

some days it’s walls and walls and walls

until I can’t move at all

sometimes I haven’t got the word

some days I’m swallowed by the world

Yeah-I am weary

still doing well

some days I fall down

some days are hell

They say true love is hard

so lost in who we are

can’t find no compromise

in the ocean of our eyes

still I try

still I cry

and try to hide

behind my pride

I am weary

still doing well

some days I fall down

some days are hell

I’ll never give up

my silent fight

Jericho’s walls

may break tonight

~TMF 2020

Drunk Thumbs

the words I meant to tell you

into the WordPress stomach sunk!

All because I was drunk…

crazy thumbs—wildly flunked

all my feelings—were queued

oh the woes

I wished to convey

and now they are gone

as of today…

what cursed button did I hit…

that saved you all

from my raving shit…

Or was I saved by energy unseen

from inebriated words

I did not mean?

the somber silence

in the morning comes

but still I’m thankful

for these opposable thumbs…

~TMF 2020


everywhere I turn it’s the same
a tumbling centrifugal freefall…
different shades of the same nightmare
my body is weary
conscripted for foreign warfare…
my heart is being raped
anguish for your despair
still I am torn

another marionette
by my shadow master
to play Russian roulette
this cruel design of mankind
the bullets…
commandments spinning in my head
less understood each day

would that merciful death swallow
alas, death is never so kind
a slight graze
nibble by nibble I am eaten
having to manage
my savor—my texture
for the unknown
for wishes and dreams
this unholy fairytale

a monster with too many faces
living death with a smiling veneer
can never be bested
offering convenient salvation
while it feeds with everlasting greed
night and day—always
clawing—vying for a place in my soul
I am destined to be haunted
while lucidity imperceptibly fades…

Written by Matthew & Nathalie – 2017
© 2017 This Mortal Flesh


Nathalie we must be tuned to the same frequency lady! We really are evil twins 😛

Readers, please please check out Nat’s phenomenal posts over at arwenaragornstar!

Nathalie, thank you for writing with me time and again!


A collaboration with Nathalie that I somehow just sat on in my drafts. Better late then never I suppose. Re-reading this 3 years later with how the world has changed is a bit freaky!


I don’t want
your pity
your empathy
your sympathy

I know what I am…
strength in fragility
placing others before me
something only I see

I know at times
I turn my head
hide in my bed
twist words said

I know my flaws
my casual withdraw
the lack of wherewithal
my willingness to brawl

am I just delusional
seeing myself false
know you not my pulse
tell me if I’m lost

I’ve been told
you reap what your sow
and I’ve felt karma’s blow
so where did the good go…

Written by Matthew – 2016
© 2018 This Mortal Flesh
Photo: Pinterest



days ebb like tides


beneath this COVID sky

losing my mind

passing the time

doldrums and wine

self undermined

the solitude of this room

weeping walls

soak up my gloom

sigh by sigh

high by high

another day I die

succumbing to this COVID mind

birthing pains, yet

no more hopes born

visions of a world shorn

retribution for the centuries unkind

her short goodbye

mother’s armies leave behind

just our stain on time

10 Count

Image result for knocked out art

punches coming blind now
once glancing blows
now land flush
blackening my eyes
stealing my breath

breathless and beaten
eyes swollen shut
down for the count
no will to stand
the fight is over

Written by Matthew – 2019
© 2019 This Mortal Flesh


Image result for blindfold world burning deviantart

lack of clear vision
or intolerance?

world of the lost
or same as its ever been?

so inherently flawed
gaped mouths appalled

grieve for perfection
we have never known

grieve for the sunken road
the conductor without control

thrashing through muck and mire
kindling for a dying fire


a monster slipped the skin
a monster we let in…

Written by Matthew – 2019
© 2019 This Mortal Flesh


Image result for blood in water art

13 reasons—68 seasons
a trillion tears to fall
the weeping mind
writes line by line
bitter words on a freezing wall

stinging ice—one slice twice
to cut it all away
the numbing cancer
a final answer
if darkness lights the day

yet pain is a fetter—tying together
lonely days living dead
drowning in questions
guilting inflections
13 reasons why you fled

Written by Matthew – 2017
© 2017 This Mortal Flesh


Suicide is never an answer. That pain goes on and spread though the lives of everyone you have touched. The mind can be such an awful thing. I encourage anyone reading this to seek help from more than one source if you’ve ever had suicidal thoughts or ideations. If you are reading this and you are strong, I encourage you to reach out to others you may see in need. We are our brothers and sisters keepers. Spread love not pain.

Suicide Hotline: (800) 273-8255

Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741



disagio bianco by agnes-cecile

this feeling that abates but never flees
undefined thoughts that drive me to my knees
like some kind of elliptical orbit they stray
only to revisit on some random day

if less than nothing could ever be real
that still would not touch this way that I feel
slighted out of some obscured glorious destiny
my dreams just beyond reach decay infinitely

thus here I sit in the position where I’ll die
among the hopeless others who suffer same as I
wanting—pleading—seeking solace from our sorrow
as the free feast richly upon our precious marrow

Written by Matthew – 2019
© 2019 This Mortal Flesh



Nobody callin

No one carin

Nobody even thinkin

About me

Not that I need

But it would feel good

To know someone cares

About me

Where did I go so wrong

How do I rank so low

Please somebody tell me

Did I take too long

To recognize

False confidence

Could never have served me…

But I loved

Always cared

Never dared

To hold myself over

What I loved

What I feared

What I never had thought

Could be…

I’m still here

By my self

But not alone

I still fear

All the nothing

What I have always known…

Me vs. Me

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wake the fuck up
snap out of it
so your life is not
sunshine and titties
so what if you
are only a tiny spec
of nothing
in a world
filled with somethings
this is still life
and it only lasts
so long
at the end
it’s just over
later today
in 20 years
and what did you do
but live out
your days
in some depressive


oh there you are
my logical brain
such theories
such advice
so tell me how
how can I
just live
not worry
have no fear
find more than
mere respite
stop feeling
only rejection
how can the undesired
feel wanted
in this world
filled with vanity
better yet
how can I feel
when the end
could strike
without warning


Written by Matthew – 2018
© 2018 This Mortal Flesh
Image from Pinterest 

A Series on Humanity – Prelude

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My entire life I’ve been nothing special. At least that’s what people have communicated to me either verbally or in an indirect manner. Early on I didn’t believe it. I always felt like I was meant to be something more. Something special. I always felt like I was different from everyone else—like I had a greater destiny. The older I get the more I see how rampant self-delusion and hubris really are. Maybe we have to deceive ourselves simply so we can face each day. So we can stand tall on the bad days and feel better than everyone else—even if we don’t think we’re that way—on the good days. Cold hard reality is a real mother fucker though. What do you do when you finally see what everyone else sees in yourself? That you’re just a big pile of flesh that exists for the sole purpose of propping up someone else. That your usefulness is only measured in tangibles. How much can I do for you? How much money can I give you. How much work can I do for you?

There really isn’t much that can be done you see. I’m trapped by age, status, the system—it really feels as if the only true escape is death. I can’t do that though, because death isn’t what I want. I want to win. How do I define winning though? Winning is something that is too unrealistic. Having money and the freedom to escape? I don’t know how to get that. Is winning having the system crumble? No. I mean humanity developed this system and we’re a bunch of self-serving assholes. Even the people that are not that way at first are driven to some iteration of that. I feel it happening to me. Or is that my inner voice lying to me again—trying to make me feel that I am different—something special?  You know what is ironic though? You’re reading this right now and you feel all the same shit that I do. So maybe the real question is why are humans so fucked up. Why can’t we just willingly help each other out without it turning into a situation in which one party starts to take advantage of or exploit the other for selfish gains?

As I write this I’m reminded of the theme song from M*A*S*H. The lyrics say “the only way to win is cheat and lay it down before I’m beat and to another give my seat; for that’s the only painless feat.” So cheat. Grab what you can and run with it until you’re about to be caught then just end it. Live and die in a blaze of glory. Some people do exactly that. Some people let their fear bind them. Death is such an easy fix. People fear death because of the unknown. Is there a god? Are we held accountable for this wretched life we live? Is it just nothing? Do we just cease to be? If we just cease to be, its just over right? No more pain, no more thought, no more struggle—nothing. Humans have a hard time grasping what it is to be truly nothing because of our thoughts—because of all the convoluted and confusing stories we’ve been sold since we could reason. Nothing is nothing. No thought, no life process, nothing—just gone. What’s so wrong with that? It’s far better than living with the daily anxiety of being judged by some omnipotent being for how you performed on his mysterious pop quiz on a subject that everyone has a different interpretation of.

Damn you humans for filling us with such fear and insecurity that every single day is a battle. It didn’t—it doesn’t—have to be this way…

Written by Matthew – 2018
© 2018 This Mortal Flesh

Do everyone a favor
Just turn and walk away
You’ll never be that handsome man
That makes everybody sway
You’ll never be that husband
She’s dreamed of all her life
You’ll never be that father
They don’t need you in their life
Blow it all away
How long can you
Tuck it all away
Now its oozing from your brain
Just pull the fucking trigger
You’re nothing to anyone
No person of note
Those delusions you dream up
Now barely keep you afloat
Just pull the fucking trigger
Just smile as you go
Take the short path from this world
Its over end of show…


Image result for man in cage dark art

no more time for that which is false
no more need to synchronize with her pulse
society wears enough savage masks
I’ll indulge no more of her self-serving asks

I’ll close the black window now
dim the obfuscating lantern down

no more shiny unobtainable life in my face
I see myself more clearly now—such disgrace
I will say no more to justify my desire
perfect darkness to swallow the fire

no more burning pain in my soul
if only you’d untie me—let me go

Written by Matthew – 2018
© 2018 This Mortal Flesh
Image from Pinterest 



Related image

why do we long for
the hopelessly impossible
as if all our wants are
actually obtainable
the unbridled rush of
passion if ever
our skin collide
the freedom that
a million dollars
only can provide
I smell the sweetness
on your neck
within my waking dreams
see the rich lay claim—
their pockets fill—
I endure this silent scream
to strike my chain
to hoist my sail
to travel with the breeze
to taste your essence—
to feel you writhe—
as you drown in ecstasy
just imaginations—
stories never told
while celestials race
through all my skies—
as I wither and grow old

Written by Matthew – 2018
© 2018 This Mortal Flesh
Image from Google