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I cuss a lot. In other news, I have adorable pets.

Kevin Matisyn/Evans Blue, Part 3

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truth

It’s the hard life that she knows too well. I’ll fashion a philosophy from the writings on a bathroom stall. He’ll whisper sweet nothings into her ear and she’ll never realize the descriptive word that precedes it, is still nothing. Naked and empty and used until she is empty and naked. She’ll always go back for more because she’s made to believe that mediocre feelings are better than none at all. She’s made to feel that on a whim she’s something and in the same breath she’s nothing. Here is the key to the notion that she deserved it.

Is she the harlot he knew too well? He called the number he wrote on the bathroom wall. She answered with desire in her voice and tears hidden beneath her eyes. A voice so far away, sitting beside her and yet he’s so far away. Somehow it feels like the distance is the only thing that makes you feel close.

The truth won’t always set you free my dear. Sometimes it will send you falling further than you ever thought. And sometimes the person who accuses you of being guilty has more guilt in their confident style than you’ll ever know, or at least what you’ll find out in this lifetime. She is smoother than silk and her eyes are shaded as her hair cascades down the sides of her face, a silhouette in red and lace. So, it’s just for you that I’ll raise my glass high and say “CHEERS to the long drives and to whoever survives, I’ll offer you love at first sight for as far as you can see with your eyes.”

bravery finds security in a novelty pen

There is a lot of money in the hype. The trumpets sound and the radios blast the news of prophets that raise the dead behind the ink. They learned that it was mightier than the sword many years ago and they’ve made it a mission to prove it on an hourly basis. The pay is just right cuz it buys a little piece of happiness just off of the coast of Mexico. These bloody knuckles will carry you to heaven if you can catch one of the many clouds that hover in the lofty spaces where millions of bad ideas are nurtured and cared for. Atop the tallest buildings the best ideas are always born. How do we know this? Because the tallest means the best and the best can only be defined by over indulgence. In the twinkling of an eye a whole planet can be made aware of this fact. It can never really brace itself for the coming of the tired but strong revolution of commercialism. It can only absorb it. This life and this society are filled with notions. They are the ones that make you feel guilty for not looking a certain way. They are the ones that make you feel irregular for not having the things that everyone else has. They are the ones that make you feel like you aren’t good enough because you have to put in 40 hours a week and you still can’t buy the luxury you so desperately seek. You had a dream once and you worked as hard as you could and you achieved it. You had this little box that you built and it showcased your life story up until now. It looked pretty good but for some reason you wanted it to look even better still. You felt as if there was even more you could get. There is always more. There is always something better on the other side of the fence. The grass is not only greener but it stands to be the tallest grass you’ve seen and the tallest means the best. All of a sudden the box you hold doesn’t look too great and you’re scurrying around to figure out how to make it better. You look at the box and see your life inside it and it makes you feel like a football player who has just won bowling trophy. You’re happy to have won but you’re kind of sickened by the cold hard reality that it is just a bowling trophy.

There is a lot of money in rebellion. There are so many parodies in the world of wealth and the universal pursuit of recognition that it could make your head spin clear off your shoulders. If you could market this new trick you may make a fortune but that is neither here nor there. They’ll find fame in their utter disregard for the desire of it. It will be pre-conceived and pre-meditated and pre-produced and pretty much as shallow as can be without changing it’s meaning to show that it is entirely empty. It will have a pretty price tag and everyone will pay it. There will be a thin line between up and down and it will be called neutral. We’ll be lead to believe that if we follow the line in one big circle of grey we’ll be happy. It’s like the equator between two ridiculous segments of culture that are really one in the same. The stardom is just as strong at the top as it is at the bottom but you should never venture from your line. You make the rich richer and all you end up doing is treading water. You’re doing all the work. You’re constantly moving and changing and putting in the effort just to find that you’re barely keeping your head above the water. The brave ones are not the ones that live happy in the midst of abundance. It’s the ones that face the day knowing that they may not make the car payment this month and yet they still do whatever it takes to keep going. Bravery is not found in the ones that beat addiction with the help that only money can buy. It’s found in the ones that made a stand a long time ago to have self control. It’s reserved for the people that work 2 jobs and go to school just so they can make something of themselves when they’ve lived with nothing for so long. It’s for the ones that work dead end jobs so they can put food on the table for their children. It’s time to turn our backs on the ups and the downs. They seem to stand above us because they are the tallest and the tallest means the best. It’s ok though, because right now, it’s our time to be brave.

This novelty pen is fascinating. It’s oversized and it’s made of a strange type of wood. It looks very vibrant and it is flashy in the light. It feels balanced in my hand and it looks as if it might just be the most expensive one I own. If you can take the time; if you can really get lost in the spectacle that is laid out before you; you can almost lose yourself in it. And maybe, just maybe you can even forget the fact that it is merely a pen and all it does is write. That is all it’s ever done and that is all it will ever do. I lined up a few pens and stood them up on their ends. I was pleased to see that this one is the tallest and the tallest means the best. They all write but this one writes best, it writes tall… I can feel it.

the floor, the wall, the chair and the boy

There was this floor once; it was made of wood and it was solid. It felt many footsteps. It bore them all no matter how heavy or how often they came around. It had been painted many times over the years. The layers of stain were thick but they could never cover the stains of time or the damage done by neglect. Sometimes; no matter how hard you try, you can never cover up the parts that are wasted away by constant retreading. You can pain layer upon layer but the corruption can only be treated by digging deep. It can only be repaired by stripped it all away and starting fresh. You have to go in and remove that bad piece and replace it with something new. It can take a long time but the hard work will be worth it and it will be exhilirating.

There was this wall once; it protected everything that sat inside of it. It was a combination of wood and nails, or drywall and bricks, all of which don’t provide much refuge on their own but when combined; they lose their identity and they become something substantial. It is the first line of defense against the elements. It keeps out the lightning and the cold rain no matter how relentless they are. It can take much abuse but it always makes it through the troubled times. It acts like a tough skin or a hard shell but it knows when it needs to give way and let the sun shine through.

There was this chair once; it was weathered and it was made of steel and vinyl. It stood strong in its time. It was always there. The stuffing was trying to escape from the tears that began as tiny holes but have sicne burst into a flurry of foam and webbing. It was almost as if it got a taste of the sunlight that streamed in through a window and it wanted more. It spent its whole life being the beacon for the weary. It provided relief from the weight of many worlds that all found themselves nestled in its warm embrace. It spent its life having a meaning that very few will know. It had a purpose and it was always fulfilled.

There was this boy once; he stood inside this room and he found himself free. He armed himself with what he needed to take on a world that was devious and seductive. He would always try to remind himself that there were many things inside of him that could help him face the darkest days. He looked out a window and saw that everything was in front of him and the only things that were behind him were the floor, the wall and the chair.

my weapon

If love is a loaded gun then I’m the bullet and she’s the hammer, but either way we’re both half-cocked. She’s vigilant as always and waiting for someone to come along and pull the trigger so that I effortlessly fly miles and miles away. The explosion that will occur at the point where the two pieces of metal meet is very similar to the fire that was ignited when we first met. It sent us flying and reeling but we were together. We traveled at the different speeds so it wasn’t easy to stay hand in hand but we managed. This new one will have me moving at an incredible rate while she remains stationary. I etched the words “I love you” on the casing that I’ll leave behind in hopes that it will always stay with her even when I am gone.

The smoke would creep out of the chamber just like it crept out of her lips from time to time. There will be an incredible amount of velocity behind me. I’ll end up burying myself into the sand. I’m sure if you ask her she’ll tell you that my head was usually somewhere other than where it was supposed to be, although I’m sure she’ll use a much more colorful metaphor. It will hurt to be this far away and it’ll be hard to find some bearing that make sense. It was always so shaky but it never felt like it would totally break free. It never felt like it wouldn’t last. It’s a major malfunction and the red light is spinning. The alarm sounds and it only sounds when there is a massive failure of all systems. It’s times like this that you realize there are more important things to cry over than spilled milk or whatever other liquid was in that cup.

It hasn’t always been this way. There was a time when I knew that I wanted to be behind the blad instead of in front of it. I swore that I’d never lose control again but by doing so I think I’ve missed out on some of the best aspects of what true love is all about. I could write a thousand songs about the subject and that would never grant me closure. There comes a time in your life when you have to wake up. The alarm has been buzzing for years now but you keep hitting the snooze. You try so hard to get by in 10 minutes increments when deep down you know that you never end up getting the quality of sleep you really need. It feels like I’ve been asleep for far too long and enjoying the many dreams I’ve had. When she realized she couldn’t wake me up she decided to let her own feelings fall asleep, not beside me but far, far away. It’s so far that I can’t wake them up no matter how loud I scream. There’s nothing worse than waking up and seeing that the one that is supposed to be beside you is gone. There is nothing worse than knowing that while I was asleep; living all my dreams, a beautiful reality disappeared. It’s a tragedy… and we love our tragedies.

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Written by Kaci Johanna

February 19, 2008 at 9:30 am

Posted in By Kevin Matisyn

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