Why I Have Trust Issues

I poured my


Into  a jar

With a hole

In the bottom.


Written By: Matthew Taylor


Broken Pieces

Since we crossed paths on this lonely road,
I’ve given you my last tissue,
And the similarities between us begin to unfold.
It seems you feel trust is owed,
But your actions make me second guess if your last guy was really the issue.

I continue.
I persist.
I believe in you.
Yet at times I feel that to you I just exist.
In the midst of all the controversy,
In the mist of all the broken stories,
I insist that one day you’ll open up to me.

I pick up the broken pieces though,
And can tell you’ve had it rough.
Am I not allowed to draw conclusions,
Since you show little emotion except being tough?
Is my time not enough?
My open mind not enough?
This open book of mine not enough?
Will you please just open up?
Before I give you back your broken pieces,
Mine are heavy as it is.


Written By: Matthew Taylor

Thinking About You

I’m not sure if it’s your sweet nature that got you to creep into this heart,
But I definitely know that honest gentle smile had to be somewhat of a start.
I respect what you have with him in each and every way,
But that doesn’t help the fact that I think about you for what feels like each and every day.

My smile remains every day,
This is not some soppy heartbreak story.
Truth is I’m happy for you,
Jealousy is no part of my inventory.

I do wish I could see you sometime soon,
Share a few stories and play you 7 Day’s in Sunny June.
Listen to your stories about how you’ve been,
How you’ve bloomed.
Who knows,
Maybe you’ll fall asleep on my shoulder again,
And this time I won’t snooze,
Or maybe I’ll forever be the daydreamer,
The man on the moon.

Written By: Matthew Taylor

No Truth, So I Speak To Myself

Understand a few languages but only interested in speaking the truth,
Guess that’s why I spend most of my time speaking to myself and not in the company of you.
So I spend my days writing,
Writing away,
Fake people try to get close,
Give them no time of day.
Used to be sensitive,
Then I OD’d on Sensodyne,
Now I’m busting doors down taking what’s rightfully mine.
See truth sadly on the decline,
Believe my opinions are dimes.
Cleaned my head and my thoughts,
Now I’m head and shoulders above most.

Thoughts of the future,
One thing I can’t be,
If you didn’t know,
Story of my life,

Written By: Matthew Taylor


Freshly brewed coffee in the kitchen,
Or the local cafe on the corner.
Where I catch the morning sun,
Or where I put my head to rest when the day is done.
I know now that I belong.
Whether it’s Beijing,
Or Medellín,
Sorry mother,
Perhaps I’m somewhat a scatterling.
Although I cannot stand the thought of being boxed or domed in,
The way I see it,
I could be in a hotel, motel or inn and still feel at home.
Never a new beginning like spring,
This entire world is my home,
And I’m not stopping till I’ve made sure all the rooms are clean.

Written By: Matthew Taylor


I just want to hear my heart beat for a minute,
My thoughts are loud enough so please don’t speak for a minute.

Let me smoke in peace for a minute,
Blowing tree’s under tree’s is what I need for a minute.

So I can read for a minute,
I’m tired of doing irrelevant shit, my mind just needs to feed for a minute.

I don’t want to speak for a minute,
So writing might just be what I need for a minute.

So I can finish writing this piece in a minute,
Close my eye’s before I forget to simply breath and live for a minute.

Written By: Matthew Taylor

What’s Really Real?

Sometimes I want to forget,
Forget the words that I’ve said.
Sometimes I feel regret,
Regret for stupid decisions I’ve made.
Sometimes I feel like I’m spent,
Spent of all love inside.
Sometimes I feel there’s no hope,
Hope for peace in these times.

At times I feel like I’m me,
At times I feel like I’m not.
At times I feel like I’m free,
At times I feel like I’m blocked.
At times I feel I’m at peace,
At times I feel I’m being shot.
At times I feel life is real,
But most time’s I feel like it’s not.

What’s really real and what’s not?
Coz physical thing’s are not much.
Some feelings don’t really last,
Except when living in the past.

What’s constant?
I think heaven only knows.
Liquor and drugs sooth the overthinking brain,
And prayer seems to keep me from going insane.

Complex words,
Complex nerd,
Complex girls,
Complex world.

All I have is my word,
Two rosaries under my shirt.

Written By: Matthew Taylor