I cannot stand the taste of salt
On my tongue as the night drags on
And although it is my own fault
I cannot stand to know you’re gone;
Sheets covered in raindrops – no,
Those are pieces of my heart
And I find myself alone tonight
(Perhaps deservingly so);
Didn’t mean to yell, to fall apart;
I’ve always feared the light.
My lips are unbearably numb;
Is this how I’ll miss your kiss?
Is this what I’ve become?
Lost your love in the abyss,
The depths of my own mind,
Where voices ring loud:
“You are not worthy!”
Oh, I do apologize;
Words like these won’t make you proud,
But neither will girls like me.
I am acquainted with early hours
Of the morning, and yes
One a.m., I miss the flowers;
Midnight has already seen the mess
That is my forlorn heart
And yes, two a.m.,
You may wipe clean my canvas face
For sadness is not a work of art;
Were my lips not meant to part again?
Perhaps I am simply a soul misplaced.
He told her how he never felt noticed
So she made it her job to always notice everything about him.
He told her he likes talking while kissing
So she made up poems in her head
One about excitement
And one about happiness
To whisper to him in the tangle of lips and tounge.
He expressed his envy towards her
How he also wanted to live in the moment
Just as she did
So she made it her duty to plan ahead to make sure
He could feel free.
He told her about heartbreaks
and how bad they hurt him
So she made sure to always have an extra supply of love and scotch tape
So if his heart gets broken he can tape the pieces together
And if that doesn't work
He can have her love
To see if it will heal him.
He told her about how she made him feel safe
Like she'd always be there for him
So she super glued her hand to his
So he'd always be with her
And always feel safe.
Take your tiny bone body to the backyard,
shovel the guilt from the dirt,
from your stomach;
replace is with biographies that have taken to your holes.
love your voice enough to lay it to rest,
scream into the earth that you,
Bury your 1997 and 2003 regrets and depression,
it will grow like a seed from the dirt,
from your stomach.
I am crying because these tears are the words I will not say.
I sob because leaking out of my eyeballs is every goddamn sentence I held inside while we were fighting.
All I keep iron lipped locked up lest I explode everything with the velocity of feeling,
of pure gas fire explosions of all these secrets I keep bouncing around the inside of this concrete skin.
And just for a moment,
I don't want to apologize to anyone about
what chemical reactions are taking place in my twisted brain.
I don't want to "work things out" or "talk it through"
or yell or scream or vent to people because no one knows what to say or do except hugging
but I'm all alone in this dark room, dehydrating myself and curling into a ball small enough to fit in your chanel purse,
And I don't want you to wrap your stiff arms around me.
That's when I don't want anything more than just to collapse,
to slide into pieces and fold them all on top of each other until I can absorb into something simpler,
something that doesn't have heavy feet sentencing her to a lifetime of traveling these warped roads-
or maybe someone who can deal with the world without turning all of it into a poem,
a girl who doesn't have to fake forgiveness for rides to practice and isn't forced to worry about crossing lines and homework or turn signals or disappointing adults and landing standing tucks and being sharp at football games or homecoming dates and not pissing off my stupid "friends"-
Along with all the other everyday irrelevance that won't mean anything in 25 years.
What do I even care, anyway?
Does anyone actually care?
Isn't it all just bullshit?
But as my phone rings and rings unanswered and my doorbell stays silent
I must come to the conclusion that I am just another human being having the same damn emotions as everyone else and that, in fact,
My friends don't want to hear once again about that fight my mom and I have been waging on and off for about 3 years and how it literally drains my will to live and worms holes in my mental health.
I must not be that girl who pities herself-
the one who lets her watery-gray sadness spill over the sides and splash into other people's laps, bringing down lighthearted conversations on the quad about homecoming dresses
For God's sake, Gabrielle
keep your shit to yourself.
Splash your face with water, spray a little febreze, fetch your plastic bags and fake smiles.
No one likes a bad smell.
the sky was out of place in this night sky.. it was as if this night was not real.. but it was.. there was a feeling of leaving always.. as if the night was saying goodbye to me every second i was in it.. it was quite enchanting being here.. things were not in their right place.. pictures on the walls were alive.. even the luster of the stars in the sky spoke of flase beautiful magic.. almost as if a child drew them upon the shadowy blanket dark sky..
A lone cloud passes by and takes me with it.. for a moment i am above this night.. i see my old street where i grew up.. i see my brother pulling me in our red wagon.. fireflies gather around us.. the baby pine trees begin to dance in the wind.. the night starts to feel fresh again.. the air taste so good..
i am back to my first home.. i go inside my first room.. and go straight to my old toy box.. the wonders i see.. all of my old toys light up my memories.. the room grows dark and my old night light glows upon me.. once i was afraid of the shadows there.. now i see them and become one with them.. shadows of the soul.. I awake from a dream of my past.. I see clear my memory shell and how it pieces together..
is this just smoke from our bodies
or can it be steam?
a faulty connection
two separate pieces
of a single machine...
steam... the result of two parts working together
It's been a few months
Maybe a few less than it feels
Since you ripped us; your head and our heart
The leaves have gone from green to vibrant purples, oranges
And other colours you couldn't see
Your funeral was nice, quiet, simple and not made a big deal
We didn't bury you naturally in the forest though
With a proud Oak above your head like you wanted
That made me mad, you won't live on like you should have
You were buried in an anonymous graveyard
Which held some importance to the people that knew you least
I visited your gravestone more than a few times
Everyone, the whole group and I have
It's a cold gravestone, more ornate that you would have wanted
That simply reads your name
Followed by January. 30 1996- August 17, 2012
The 2 words and 4 numbers that add up to 4063
Don't do justice, don't sum up your life quite right
At least in our eyes it doesn't...
I know you would have just wanted your name
Or nothing at all since they killed the forest you had in mind
"The tree will live on, I will rot and my body will be used
To create a forest, to create life"
Is what you always said
But you shouldn't be surprised by all I this like I am,
Like the group is
No one it appears, ever listened to your muted voice
Halloween came and people celebrated by wearing masks over their masks as you'd say
"The ghosts and ghouls and goblins
Are much better looking when people think
Their being clever and finally letting them down
Because it's Halloween and no ones paying attention because everyone's doing it"
It wasn't the same without you
Everyone came over but it was quiet and awkward
None of us covered our masks like everyone else
Rather, we all took them off for another night
Sitting around, talking, laughing and spraying blood on the walls
I decided I'd give myself a tattoo
To remind me of you and something you said a really long time ago;
Keep your feet grounded and so I did
An arrow pointing down on my ankle
Just as a reminder
I did it with a sewing needle in my room
While the group watched and provided expert commentary
They all wanted one but they didn't
I don't care if my parents find out
And I don't care if it gets infected
I did it for a reason and I'll stand by it
It'll kill my dreams of the military
You told me but I can't say I care anymore
My dreams died when you did
The sweet and salty tang of ocean foam
The free smell of freshly cut grass
And lemonade made fresh from the lemon trees in the yard
The smell of glue and ink on paper
The soft sound of pages turning and coffee brewing
The thousand colors of illustrations
The quiet promise of a book missing its cover
The heavy taste of honey in the mornings
The bright, spicy smell of freshly picked apples
The tangy reward of apple cider as the nights cool
The laughter that fills the air after a long day of harvest
The love and comfortable silences of family
The chaos of a dinner table in the evening
The excitement of holiday baking
The curious wonder of a walk through the woods
The warmth of a fire during the winter
The value of a hard days work
The stories of war and childhood told during the storm
The calluses on my papa’s hands
The scars that my grandpapa wore proudly
The smile lines that my grandmamma let be seen so easily
The lessons that my mum gave us everyday
The gift of a childhood friend
The adventures only children can have
The risk of sneaking out when everything is quiet
The quiet suffering of a friend in pain
The loss of what I held closest to my heart
One stroke at a time
The image of me growing better and more detailed each day
Drawn with the experiences of family and learned morals
The Past of those who had lived life for longer than I had
Giving me depth and value
My own mistakes make me original
Its nearly 2:30 am
And once again, I dreampt of you
They will always possess me
And I can feel your voice
Giving me chills, flooding me,
And piercing through my black soul,
Full of sorrow and full of despair.
By this, you create a feeling of ecstacy
Swimming through my veins
And shattering my bones
This is why I awake at nearly 2:30 am
Simply just to write songs about you
Simply just to get you off my mind.
Let me takeover your every breath.
Flooding into your lungs,
You are now mine.
Surely until I fade away
Into thin air
And leave nothing but ashes
On the ground.
Spill out everything you're filled with;
Who knows whether your glass is half empty
Or half full
Now its on the ground
And that's okay,
Because I'm on my hands and knees
Cleaning it all up.
You remind me of stain glass windows in a church;
Some see your beauty, on the inside and out,
But they only notice when the sun gleams through your colors and cracks,
Showing off such vivid and lovely colors.
They don't see your beauty. The can't fathom it.
They're the ones who throw rocks at you,
Leaving you shattered into
A million pieces
On the floor,
Not able to be loved,
Not able to be appreciated.
But, while you're that shattered mess
On the floor,
Let it be known
That I am the one
On my knees
With my fingers cut and bleeding
Picking up every shattered or broken
Piece of you
And I will mend you back together
I will make you feel whole
I will make you feel special
Because you are.
Look me in the eyes;
I'm not sure whether they remind me
Of the sound of the rippling waves in the salty ocean on a hot summer day
Or the smell of the smoking flames of a bonfire on a warm july night
They set my soul at ease.
Things are impermanent.
We all know this too well.
Roaring fires turn to embers
Embers turn to ashes
That soon blow away into thin air.
This is why our love is not like fire.
Our love cannot be described.
"Nothing lasts forever"
2013 © O'Brien Devin Brielle
Ripples of effulgent colors
Reaching out from waters disturbed
Waves bothering no one
Except silent moods
And heavy sighs
Leaves falling like the fire from the skies
Sitting at the river bed alone
Hearing the blazing trumpets of angels
In the air for all of the world to hear
Definite, gazing and profound
The streets echoing the screams
Maybe millions burning
The people melting
turning to ash
Visions so pristine, with pools of clear waters
Where the universe dances with shooting stars
Nights so serene, with comets and saucers
Where multi-verse poets tell fables from mars
Mirrors orbiting realms of light and sound
Along ghost ships, serpents and mango worlds
Wormholes overwhelms clouds that surround
Near women’s hips and flowing hair swirls
The earths below like a burning molten orb of muck
Where Rephaite giants wrestle behemoths in vile seas
The dreams glow here like a harem where angels fuck
And centaurs play Gato Barbieri tunes full of gleam
That sad moment where I wake up in an opium pit
Below the Broadway theater
And a little Chinese lady scoots me out for new customers
And I stumble out into the streets
And buy a paper
Reading of a stock market crash
and the end of my job
as I fend for life in the jungles of Vietnam
I see friends of mine get their faces shot to pieces
And their brains fall to my lap
And I scream as the Vietcong rush me
Hack my limbs off and leave me for dead
And I wake up in a hospital bed
A quadruple amputee
Falling in love with a nurse I might never see
Again, so I ask her to hold me and let me
Cry into her shoulder
Then I pay a homeless man
to push me off a bridge with him
We fall and hit the water hard and—
I float up to the surface
And when I emerge I see
myself at the edge of a river
Tossing rocks into the water
I call out to help
But He doesn’t hear me
He stands up and leaves
I crawl up from the river with new arms and legs
Crying with an emotion I cannot describe
For what dreams and past-lives have been here
On this Day of Wrath?
On this beach of trash and rocks?
Where I can see my grand-kids playing
In the southern California dusk
And my wife reminds me of the first time we met
In that hospital
Next to the opium den
At the end of the world.