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Braxton Reid Nov 2017
All things so morose
So many people speak of woes
When we're deep in throes
Braxton Reid Nov 2017
Hello, cool air that carries news
From northern breathing trade winds
I've gone all night not sleeping
My stinging eyes make bad friends

My attention span is waning soon
My work will be so **** thin
I cannot stop obsessing
O'er my present next of kin

"Once I was-" and "Once I had-"
Don't pay me any mind
For I am just a sleepless boy
But with a man I'm intertwined
Braxton Reid Nov 2017
I mourned my childhood; that daydreamin' boy of the past walking in the woods with friends.
Sweet child that knew no bounds.
This laughing kid with his head in the clouds.
**** the dreams that flew away; given my chance, in that past I would stay.
A eulogy for the electric being I once was; no current was ever strong enough to hold forever.
Braxton Reid Oct 2017
On my birthday in 2016 I blacked out. Usually, bad things happen when I blackout. This time was different though, I was a very pure version of myself. How pure could it have been really? I mean, there was viscous alcohol running through my veins. I was always told alcohol wasn't pure; I still believe that.

  On such a night, I can remember the blur of pixie lights hanging outside the rooftop bar. Mixed with tequila, the lights created almost a room of light around me. I remember the girl that put a plastic sword (used for stirring drinks) in my hat. I loved the sword, it must've meant something to me. She must have meant something to me that night, but no longer.

  Thats the strange thing about such small moments. People can mean so much one night, and then be gone in the next. She was on her way to Colorado, Montana, or something the next day. I never saw her again. I'm not sad about it, but it does leave me confused. I'm not one to believe in purpose, but I do have some inkling that its a possibility we cross paths in a biological rainstorm. Maybe our biology determines our chance meetings with the fates.
Braxton Reid Oct 2017
I hope we get snow
Dampen my sound, close my eyes
Heavier Weather
Ready for winter
Braxton Reid Oct 2017
I check my phone.
Its the same thing I saw 5 minutes ago.

I have no interest in my favorite things at this point in time. Even as I write this bit of prose I can feel that I'm not truly interested; I keep writing.

I check my phone.
20 minutes ago I zoned out while my favorite song was on and stopped singing.

When I was 16 I picked up guitar; my dream job was to be a musician, but then I turned 22. More recently my dream has been to find a dream in all the perfect chaos that is this world. "Are dreams a valid thought, or are we just told we should have them from a young age?", I ask myself.

I check my phone.
I should be leaving my car to go upstairs to my girlfriend and child.

I check my phone.
Why does my car feel like the safest place at times?

I check my phone.
JUST GET UP AND DO SOMETHING WITH YOURSELF.

I put my phone down.
Why am I not crying? Normal people cry.
Why would I be crying? I haven't lost anything worth mourning, right?

Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

I check my phone.
Braxton Reid Oct 2017
My discipline is weaning; I should get up and do my chores.
This mess is brooding deeper and hiding all the floors.
The dishes smell like ****; the trash is overflowing.
Why, O why, do I stumble by and let this charade keep growing?

My vision has been blurring from pure domestic purging.
Unhealthy mechanisms have given to isomniac flurry.
A blue screen has been screeching; blue rays keep me awake.
I'm sick of turning over just to see that I'm a fake.
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