Volume 44 ~ 2022

Matthew Garringer



Warning - Mentions of Suicide.


False vibrations on my desk,

I thought you hit me up again,

Turns out it wasn’t you,

It was all up in my head,

Taking time to text you,

Even when I’m dead,

No response;

I’ll just crawl up in my sheets.



The sheets of my bed,

Act has an extra layer of protection,

To keep my thoughts from escaping,

Thoughts of feeling screwed over,

Feeling damned,


Screwed over,



Screwed over,



Why is it at night,

I feel the most alone?


You pushed me to the ground,

But God and music were my pillow,

You never counted down from three,

Without hesitation,

You just ripped off the tape,

Taking blame of things you said,

Clouds are overhead,

This is taking me to places I have never been,

What is the point of trying, 

If I can’t get a single ounce of respect?


I skateboard by your house,

Completely unannounced,

I got the guts to ask you out,

My mom was truly proud,

I notice by the payphone,

I can see your hair flow,

You’re making out with the one,

That makes me feel alone.


I know you would never come to my funeral,

You would just spit on my grave,

I miss our cruise nights,

All we had was our playlists,

And each other.

Late nights and no fights,

We would hold each other tight, 

What happened to us?

I guess I just wasn’t enough,

I am sorry that I’m sad,

I’ll just write some songs,

Knowing that they’re bad.

I feel like a crushed coffee cup,

Blowing in the wind,

Once used to bring joy and happiness,

Now I am forgotten,


Having no one to call my own.


Tears fall from my eyes,

Filling the pool of misery,



I’m in that pool, 

As if I didn’t know how to swim, 

Not only that, 

I feel your hands on my shoulders,

Pushing my head under the surface,

That is what it feels like,

To drown in your own sheets.


The rumors of others, 

Changed what we had,

Since when did I,

Do something so bad?

I would always forgive you, 

But you would push me in front of heavy traffic,

As hard as you can,

It brings amusement to your face,

I would release cries for help,

But you never cared.


This may sound strange,

But I would never change anything we had.

Sure I felt sad, 

But it turned me into the man I am today,

What others say to me,

And say about me,

Doesn’t define me,
I am going to be the best me, 

I can be.


Writing is a good escape,

But thoughts of you,

Fill my mind’s landscape.

Every experience we shared,

May have not been so great,

But they have made me braver, happier, and some many other positive traits.


When you lied to me,

I always forgave you.

When you started rumors,

I always forgave you.

When you took my heart and broke it,

I always forgave you. I forgive you. Always.


One night, I said to my mom, “I wish I didn’t care so much about people.” She replied, “Keep being a light in the world for people that are lost in the dark, they don’t know how lucky they are to have someone like you in their life.”


So that is what I like to do,

Be the light for people that are lost in the dark,

Even though situations may not turn out the way you want,

But there is always something good that comes out of it.


Show appreciation for the people you care about. Buy them a Monster, buy them Swedish Fish, give them a hug, share a smile with them, hit them with a high five. Any small sign of gratitude can make someone's day go from a 0 to a 10. 


I will always care about you.

Night 137/365

Originally appeared on KUVR’s Town Talk

The record spins,

Over and over.

Spitting out songs of grunge and punk rock,

Over and over.

While the rain knocks on the window,

Over and over.


The loud rumble of thunder breaks my concentration,

Shaking the floor,

Making the guitar strings and snare drum wire,

Scream in horror,

The lego minifigures stand still,

With a smile on their face,

Knowing everything will be fine,

In the Sanctuary.



My music studio,

My room,

My safe place.


I sit at my wrap-around desk,

Which sits under my loft bed,


It takes up half of my room,

Two computer monitors in front of me, 

With my producing controller at my fingertips,

My synthesizer keyboard to my right,

With my two ukuleles on the wall,

Making my other guitars jealous,

As they sit on stands that remain on the floor.


I sit with writer's block,

Occasionally glancing at my television that is showing Back to the Future Part II,

The music software showing bare and feeling cold,

Showing no sign of progress,

I sit with frustration, 

Wishing something would come to my mind,

My drums sit in the corner,

They have been untouched for around six hours now,

Missing the drive that music offers,

The knocking on the window,
Makes the drums miss it even more.

Pictures of family and friends,

Paint the walls,

The citrus candle remains lit,

Showing signs of a tired flame,

The scent becoming weaker,

And weaker,

With every aching second.


The stuffed animals lay cold on my bed,

With it being 1 a.m.,

They are used to the late nights,

All they have to look forward to, 

Is every night when I go to bed.


The Christmas lights,

Are strung from my ceiling,

They have been year-round,

The lights remain jolly,

Because it’s their time to shine,

It brings an aesthetically-pleasing vibe,



The storm forcing the electricity to die,

It is pitch black.

The only source of light is the aching flame,

The instruments scream in horror,

As the thunder shakes the floor.

But I sit still,

With a smile on my face,

Knowing everything will be fine,

In the Sanctuary.



My music studio,

My room,

My safe place.

Grip Tape


11:07 p.m.

My parents have been in bed for a couple hours now, but honestly I lost track of time. Whenever they came to check on me, I just pretended to be asleep. This is because I plan to sneak out and go skateboarding. By myself. I don’t have many friends, and none of them like this stuff. I’m used to it, though. I might wait a few more minutes before I sneak out just to make sure my parents are really asleep.


11:11 p.m.

I picked up my phone to make sure it was fully charged. I look at the time and I notice that it is 11:11. I made a wish. I don’t think they really come true, but you never know. The time has struck. I slip on a pair of gray shorts and put on a red flannel shirt. I had to open my closet to grab my favorite pair of Vans. It made a loud creaking noise which startled me, but I don’t believe it woke up my parents. I grab my limited edition Spongebob-themed Santa Cruz skateboard and tuck my earbuds in my shirt. 


11:14 p.m.

I release the window lock and carefully open up the very old window. I make sure to take my time during the process, just so the window doesn’t make any loud noises. After what feels like forever, there is a big enough gap in the window for my scrawny body to sneak through. I toss my skateboard out first, making sure it lands on a patch of grass; not only for protection, but also so it doesn’t make a loud boom. I then push myself through the portal to the outside world and end up landing in a sharp and pokey bush. I end up scratching myself on my arms and legs. Oh well, I will just tell my parents it was the cat. Sorry, Rolo.


11:16 p.m.

I take my phone out of my pocket and shove my earbuds into my ears. I started to play my playlist titled “i'm depressed.” Over 240 songs and longer than 14 hours.. That is really saying something. I begin the adventure-filled trek down Lafayette street and head north. I notice I have to push more than usual, I should have adjusted the bearing before I left, but it’s too late now. I’ll just get more exercise, right? With the streets of my hometown being awful, it is a very bumpy ride. I have to occasionally swerve around the large pot holes that fill the streets like bombs that cover a WWII battlefield. All of the bumps start to give me a headache. Great. I continue to head north, riding the sidewalk that remains by the busiest street our glorious hometown has to offer. Usually at this time, there are truckers that use the road, or high school kids going home from a party. The semi-trucks have very loud engines, it makes it such a chore to hear my music playing. Thanks a lot, truck drivers.

11:33 p.m.

I arrived at one of our parks that is on the north side of town. I begin to cruise the road that surrounds the main lake. This road isn’t nearly as bad as the roads downtown. As I skate along, singing with the music in my ears, I notice a single car parked on the side of the road. The only source of lighting coming from the vehicle is from the LED radio, but it blends in with the fog-layered windows. I notice handprints and smudges on the two rear windows. I skate for the exit. Trying to mind my own business.


11:42 p.m.

I begin to head east, towards my church. It sends a reminder to my mind that I'm playing this Sunday. I keep along the surprisingly smooth sidewalk. Out of the blue, peace comes to me. It overtakes my senses like goosebumps on a cold winter's eve. I stop in my tracks and step off my board. I glance upwards at the sky, the stars similar to a blanket, protecting the earth from infinite darkness. I usually take this view for granted, but not this time. My body slumps to the ground, my head laying in the grass. I decided I was going to stay there for a while as sad songs fill my ears.


12:28 a.m.

There is nothing like the late night breeze flowing through your hair. It was such a beautiful night. I wanted to stay out longer, but I figured it was time to make my way back home, just in case my parents get up and notice I am missing. All of the skateboarding really makes me thirsty. You may think water would come to my mind, but no. A White Monster energy drink comes to my head first. So I decided to stop at my local open-24/7 gas station before I go home. Maybe I will be home a little later than I thought.


12:32 a.m.

I head south towards the gas station. I’m so used to this route, it’s starting to become a habit. The street I am riding on has become so haunting for me ever since my ex cheated on me. I have to pass her house every time I go to the gas station. I keep pushing and pushing my foot on the ground, propelling me and my skateboard forward. Trying to think about anything but her. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help but notice a familiar car in her driveway. The car of her new boyfriend. They are probably having sex, to be honest. I don’t want to think about it.


12:58 a.m.

I arrived at the small gas station. It is adorable how small it is. I kick up my skateboard and grab it by the wheels, and open the door to the gas station. I am quick to notice I am the only one here, besides the cashier. But it doesn’t surprise me, since it is in the middle of the night. I look around and I see a bright light flickering rapidly, begging for an electrical checkup. My PTSD hit from when I suffered a seizure from a similar interaction. I keep my head down, wanting to make this stop quick. I walk on the gross floor, my shoes sticking to the ground. I arrive at the cooler, everything is close to being out of stock. There was one White Monster left. My lucky day. I quickly walked to the cashier giving him three dollars and I told him to keep the change. I threw the door open and started to skate home.


1:17 a.m.

After what felt like a few minutes, I arrived at the outside of my bedroom window, wondering how and the heck I am going to get back up to my window. So I went into the garage and grabbed a ladder that was hanging on the wall. I decided to just get up early and put it back so the parents don’t get suspicious. With my Monster in my pocket and my skateboard in my left hand, I climb the ladder, step by step. I throw the skateboard through the window, and then myself. I then close the window, slip off my shoes and then jump on my bed and crack open my Monster. Just me, my Monster, and my music. After a while, I drift asleep.