The man
The man from early years was strong
he sought a world that would beg understanding
instead of falling to the knees of factory minds
seeking approval for model action
in a sea of jellyfish, the only star
Now the older man,
wizened and worn
seeks the truths found by his younger self
the shiny stones full of hopes and wishes thrown to the bottom of the pond
The world beckoning beyond beauty beheld
such promise for the broken
now he wishes to remember the honesty in living for himself
instead of begging time from those already gone
One AM
I build obstacles like springboards and reach for a new bottle of wine at one in the morning. Two nights in a row of emotionally destructive text messages with an old flame that changed the world are enough to back me into a corner of self-loathing. I’m not the type to go out with a bang, I’m just not strong for that. So I’ll drown myself in a little alcohol and some story, create a world that’s a little better and a little worse than my own. And who knows, maybe you’ll stumble across all these little poems and stories written about you. Maybe you’ll like them, or maybe you’ll hate them so much you call me up and tear me apart. But right now, this evening, this summer, I can’t seek any lower through the floor unless I become a ghost. Then again, that could happen tomorrow.
The deaf and the dead
I let you crawl into my head like a spider
in the cavity my brain was an easy thing to push out
doubts like eggs laid and festering with hatred
time spent wondering how a better man would cope
At the bottom of the pit writhe all the other bodies
damp with sweat and sweet like failure
pushing against one another while I scream in a cacophony of voices
for the day when my individuality will shine
Forget me now or love me later
I only sing to the deaf and the dead
my words were written before I was born
by better men and women across the sea
Midnight reaches the desperation
my parched tongue would take others and swallow
smooth skin wrapped up against me
I never want to see your name flash on my phone again
Thoughts pre-concert
I refuse to be
a prisoner to anyone’s broken
mind, when mine is so beautiful
to create stories and raise people
up, to love and be loved
you will never again frame me
when I have so much to give
to a warm, wonderful body and
head full of colors and future scenes
Crush
Thank you for simply existing
just so that my cold, broken heart
can remember what it loves
a spark of attraction in your perfect phrasing
and those colors in your eyes,
keep me for a moment with that sharp tongue
or soothe me later with it
having a little crush is so harmless
yet it reminds me that I’m still alive
that possibilities still exist
I can trust myself to pursue a little passion
Succumb
Your cheeks were designed so soft and well
to fit into my hands as I tilt your head
back and push my passion into you through our lips
I can trace the bones at the base of your neck with
my fingers and find that you respond to
even slight touches with a measure of
giddiness I haven’t seen in years
Breathing labored and eyes wide, I know your signs
so well, when you are ready your kisses turn hungry
and violent, you push back against me
My hands on your hips, that’s my invitation
to everything, I can feel your body succumb
I make fists in your clothes and everything is just so
put-together, I must remove every layer
as hungry as I am for you
I’ve never wanted anyone so badly
I whisper every good and decent secret into your
ears as I nibble them, and when my hand finally moves toward
that perfect space, your panic has reached
crescendo
Agony
I am going to burn this world down
until I rise higher, above it
hear my voice grow louder, get comfortable with my scream
watch my words spread hope and love and passion
your ignorance is going to shatter
fuck you if you can’t understand the simplicity of this message
I am so much better than what you’ve done to me
my mind is a precious thing and beyond
you were never in the right to make me doubt myself
here I wait for someone to validate this pathetic lie
spot the poison in these words
but I’m crying every night for the pain of this reality
that you would take back all your time with me just to function
when I’m not the worst thing that ever happened
take apart my head and spread me on the lawn
count all the pieces and realizes I’m losing more every day
why do I have to spend my nights in this agony
where do I have to go to feel a little life, a little rebellion
my songs echo dumbly off the walls of a poorly constructed universe
when my words could be spoken by anyone
----
A broken useless thing
no matter what steps I take
to love myself, I’m left with that proof
that there is no one there, no one is up
at midnight talking to me or asking me
how my day was or if I’m angry, or how my insanity
is pushing me so close to the edge that I can barely write
so no, thank you, I’m not okay
I’m twelve degrees away from functioning
I may look a little sad but that’s my best smile
there’s nothing inside here anymore
if I knew how to fix this
even in the slightest, warmest bit
I would, but I can’t afford to love myself
with my mind trying to kill me, and I hate
that somewhere in the depths of my years of learning and passion
is all the wasted time that I
can’t undo to save myself
so let me sleep for a little while only to
wake up in the morning, or maybe
I won’t wake up again at all
brendan-i-am: One of my favorite smells…
One of my favorite smells…
Are you still quiet? Are you still there?
-Hey there. Are you still quiet? Are you still there?
—I am here, and barely. I hurt. I am weighted.
-It’s heavy, what you carry. You shouldn’t have to be so wild, so alone.
—I am not wild, I am sold. My life was given up a while ago and escapes me, a fish.
-Are you still quiet? Are you still there?
—I am here, and barely. I am cold, and tired.
-I could carry you for a time, if it would serve you.
—How can you carry me, such as you are, that you cannot hold yourself together?
-Hey there. Are you still lonely? Are you still lost?
-I am here, and barely. I am lost, and small.
—I could hold you, if you would let me. I could share your burden.
-It’s me. It’s always been a part of me. My fingers, my toes, my eyes, my nose. It is all the rest.
—I only want a small part of you to own.
-I was not made to be loved by anyone.
—Hey there! Are you still troubled? Are you still in fear?
-I am here, and barely. I am almost gone, and glad for it.
-Let me in. I could give reason to your mornings and warmth to your nights.
—What can you do that others before you could not?
-Try. I could try.
—And what if you break me? What if I become less than my nothings?
-Then I will end it myself. I will give you reason. I will show you where I wronged and I will beg forgiveness. But until that day, and its arrival on never, I will make sure you are loved and feel loved, that you are held when you desire it and at peace when you require it, I will make sure that your ocean is always one more fish and that your sunrises are filled with color. Beside you all this time, I can be.
—I will give you something I have given so few. Something so large, and so small. A chance.
-Hey there. Are you still quiet? Are you still there?
-I am here, and growing. I am loved, and wanted.
Higher
Can’t you hear me, should I be louder?
where’s the calm when I tear myself to pieces
pride-shattered fellow fiend
there’s a dozen letters to you I will never write
And why can’t I be like everyone else
who loves their own shallow mistakes
I swear I’m the worst person
so forgive me my obsessions
If this isn’t the worst time in my life
I’m honestly scared to go on
the chapters become denser
or maybe it will end early
Be a friend and lift me higher
check on me every once in a while
I’ll walk away into the dense fog
or maybe this is for the best
it doesn’t go away, it doesn’t stop the pain is still there, it’s still real I can...
it doesn’t go away, it doesn’t stop
the pain is still there, it’s still real
I can feel it when I wake up, when I listen to that one song
you tell me that it’s a matter of time well maybe I’m done with waiting
I’m too young to feel this way
there’s not enough distractions in the world to drown out my internal screaming
---
My plot twist is how often I think about killing myself
so why don’t you just roll down that window
you had to break the glass
keep me at arm’s length, I bite
there’s enough poison in my veins to take us both to the grey shore
where that old bonfire is waiting, the one I see in my non-dreams
slovenly drunk and hatefully sober can I walk
the fine line of destroying myself in little pieces
if I ruined your life it was for the best
it means I left enough under your skin to turn your blue eyes pale yellow
This poem succinctly captures my feelings when you cross my mind
I
fucking
hate
you
Well
I hope you think of me when you’re burning
the new better moments created on the back of a loser
triumph over sabotage and ending serpent thrills
there’s no reason not to enjoy the taste
of blood, on my clothes and torn
up and down the streets waiting for someone to notice that I’m
wanting so badly to kill myself and the only thing
stopping me down the well
I think I’ll write a little bit longer until you
notice me or else I’m not going to make it
It’s a good thingwe are separated by screensotherwise I’d reach right outand find a way...
It’s a good thing
we are separated by screens
otherwise I’d reach right out
and find a way to have you
brcwriting: Those of you interested in my writings, please check me out on Twitter and DeviantArt.
Those of you interested in my writings, please check me out on Twitter and DeviantArt.
I want you
I fall for mean girls and crazy women
sarcastic mouths and sideways smiles
eyes holding vacant stares and calm hands
if you can sell your dishonesty like the truth it should be
then I’ll eat up every word I know is fake
talk to me in song lyrics and make me promises better than I can stomach
I want your texts to be bored and your phone calls to be ecstatic
your kissing should be violent and your sex abandoned
the night should make you sad and horny
and the daylight should make you tired
get stuck on long words and read my love letters
make me feel worse, make me feel better
Here’s something for the summer months. I’m eighteen years old and dumbly excited for...
Here’s something for the summer months.
I’m eighteen years old and dumbly excited for the infinity that summer always brings. Upstairs in that old house that is more shapes and shadows than true memory, I’m snuggled into a couch and sweating. You were there too, my arm wrapped around you as we watched some show that wasn’t enough to anchor into this scene. That couch was just the ugliest green, and even in that stifling warm air I’m happy.
I kiss you on the cheek and leave you just long enough to traipse down our staircase and make my way into the kitchen. My sweaty feet slip uncomfortably over the carpet, and the tile floor of the kitchen is cool and inviting. I grab two glasses that are imperfect and full of bubbles, setting them on the counter top behind me. When I open the freezer door I am kissed by that delicious chill, and when I take a handful of ice goosebumps bloom up and down my arms. The ice cubes clink as they fall into the glass, and when I pour water over their solidarity they crackle from the running liquid.
I’m back upstairs in a flash, settling back into my spot and kissing you on the cheek. You give me a grateful smile and I’m not sure if you are happier to see me or the glass of ice water. But as you turn your face towards mine and give me an open kiss, I can taste the gratitude. You slip a small piece of ice past your lips and into my mouth, and we become adventurous and sloppy. The hot summer day cools down, heats up, and I’m so glad we are alone. This moment will last forever. At least, until its over.
Day off
The brightness of summer
offset by the heat of your smile
a pale glance and corner,
inventive, like pouring coffee over cream
the pale blue sky reminds me of the sea I can’t see
and money exchanging hands is the most intimacy I can afford on my day off
Curious eyes and questions
you notice me and so I grin
when I meet people like you I invent stories for our future
instantaneous lightning false memories
we are separated by a counter,
and an ocean of questions
Love is a factory feeling
wonderful friends waiting
on the delight of a missed call
narcissistic like a prom queen
I missed you so much that I pressed skip
during that last song
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