austin-reichold
Hello, / My name is Austin and I'm a graduate of Le Cordon Bleu. My life revolves around cooking and music, but occasionally I like to write. A lot about it has to do with depression, living with it, growing with it, ect. I recently learned that writing is one way to cope with it and I've been enjoying it ever since. I accept any and all criticism, but like I said this is a form of letting go for me. I do wish to extenuate my vocabulary and learn more about writing. So PLEASE leave tips. / Cheers.
Between the icy roads January brings and
how cold I am in this lonely bed,
I worry that if you crash the car,
I won't be able to tell whether it's
missing you that numbs me
or the breeze I feel when
I find myself standing over your grave.
Love comes in different ways to everyone.
Your presence warms my heart more than
anything ever has before,
and I fear that once you disappear,
so will the warmth that keeps me from freezing.
The chills I get when your fingers graze my back
are not shivers from the cold.
They're simply bliss
enveloping me in the moment
where I am certain I am only yours,
and nothing else matters.
Not the ice.
Not the snow.
Not the clouds overhead.
You're summer in my endless winter,
Eyes as green as pines,
Hair kissed by the sun,
Freckles dotting your face like bees to roses,
You're as warm as the breeze.
The ice is melting.
The snow has turned to a late spring drizzle
as a form of proof that you are not going to dissipate
or follow the weather patterns that have existed so long
here in the terrain that is my mind.
Instead, you lit a match.
The fire grew, warming the lands,
bringing life to the world I never thought I'd see again-
happiness.
You made me fall.
I am not breaking ice
and I am not succumbing to the cold,
Because you are easing me into the sea
And helping me swim.
For once,
I would not mind if the water swallowed me.
The ocean's warmer than I ever imagined,
And I wouldn't mind drowning in you.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 11:46 AM UTC
i got high and masturbated until my hands were sore
a midnight breeze wafting through my room, the smell
of incense awash
i thought of you, of course i did, your fingertips
resting gently on my shoulders
kissing my cheek over and over as i turned to an ocean --
it was something in your eyes,
the way i could stare into the pupils until
i thought i could see through to the bits of you
behind your skull; i floated
inward, tugged and pulled, back to the place i was born,
to the place inside my conscience where
everything i've ever known resides.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 7:05 PM UTC
little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 6:58 PM UTC
there is always somebody or something
waiting for you,
something stronger, more intelligent,
more evil, more kind, more durable,
something bigger, something better,
something worse, something with
eyes like the tiger, jaws like the shark,
something crazier than crazy,
saner than sane,
there is always something or somebody
waiting for you
as you put on your shoes
or as you sleep
or as you empty a garbage can
or pet your cat
or brush your teeth
or celebrate a holiday
there is always somebody or something
waiting for you.
keep this fully in mind
so that when it happens
you will be as ready as possible.
meanwhile, a good day to
you
if you are still there.
I think that I am---
I just burnt my fingers on
this
cigarette.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 6:57 PM UTC
These feelings that I get.
Why do I seem so much more content when I'm alone?
Do I just talk out of obligation?
Would I rather have no friends?
Lying on the bathroom floor with empty bottles.
Then you step into my life.
Obstructing everything I believed myself to be.
Joy fills me taking fuel from the conversation.
No longer does it feel like someone is compressing my sternum to form false words.
A thirst for commitment and responsibility fills me.
No longer consumed by the darkness.
Instead clairvoyance emerges.
As if i accumulated a 6th sense previously engulfed by the darkness.
Please stay.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
The place I came from,
Sprouted from the seed of loved ones.
A sapling breaking the surface of the forest floor.
Growing strong, fast, and with vibrant colors.
Weather scared, but not stunned in growth.
Happiness shines and gives strength.
Roots adjust,
making way to another of his likeness.
Their branches reach out, almost beckoning.
Foliage ruffles,
the trees extenuate their feelings, at a cost.
Though they age the don't mature.
Branches ensnaring one another,
Pushing to stay connected,
in tune.
Cracking.
Breaking.
Nothing.
Branches laying on the forest floor,
No longer consumed by each other.
Maturity develops,
And suddenly I'm not so lonely.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC