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Bryan Aug 2018
That simple shade
Became something else.
Chemical manipulation
Of myself.
The alternative style
Of the simple apparel.
To be displayed and destroyed,
Put through peril.
This one of a kind,
Unavailable in stores.
Resulted from a craft,
Through friendship,
And something more.
We bore the fumes
Unfaltered by the work.
Our heads were light, and we prevailed with a smirk.
The counter was stained,
And so were the shorts.
But they were better now, and have since been worn.
And worn.
And worn.
This work has an interesting story. My freshman year of college I had my roomate wash a pair of my grey, champion shorts. Unfortunately, my germaphobic friend added bleach to his clothes resulting in a dime-sized stain on my shorts. Instead of throwing them out, or dealing with a very noticeable mark, I decided to dab bleach all over them. My next door neighbor and I took turns making designs on them in the hall bathroom. The shorts turned out unique and fun, but we both had to get fresh air due to the lingering effects of bleach...
Bryan Aug 2018
Fire in my throat
Enough has led to sinking, unable to float
Or a misunderstood man tying one last rope.
But not today.
Today we celebrate
And disregard emotions that frustrate
Blow off actions that help to compensate.
In order to arise
With no ideas in our mind
Of what happened, last night.
Bryan Aug 2018
As we fall into sleep we wish to dream,
To be taken away from reality.
Abandon the worries of everyday
Our eyes fall shut and we fade away.
Brains spark- stimulated by creativity
Our eight-hour world is filled with ambiguity.
An instance in an upside-down park
Where the water flows up and the sun is dark.
Or maybe on a decrepit moon.
A safari ride.
A storm’s eye.
Or a plain in June.
Wishing to stay, but knowing to leave
Adventure cut short, yet we do not grieve.
Eyes flash open, unaware
Of the joyous, the cheerful, the nightmare?
Bryan Aug 2018
I am a Catholic with many gods
Jackson, Franklin, Grant.
Bryan Aug 2018
Photographs enable us to forget but force us to remember.
Bryan Aug 2018
The best things in life
Are those which lack purpose.
There is no reason to go for a walk,
To watch the stars, shine in the sky
Or view the morning sunrise.
Yet we still perform these actions,
And find comfort
In the ungraspable benefits.
Bryan Aug 2018
In bed at one
Up by twelve,
Busy day no time to dwell.
Attempts to eat, chokes it down
This will make her mother proud.
Strips, into shower
Stands in warm silence for half an hour.
An urgent knock gets her out
Twelve fifty-five, this girl is devout,
To lie down. She thinks this is the answer
Slowly slipping into a mental cancer.
In bed at one
Up by twelve.
Written in a lackluster sense of being and mind. I just wanted to express how people fall into a slump, resulting in every day being exactly the same. One's life can easily be controlled and consumed by their own psychological state. However, we must break our slumps, forget our Netflix passwords, and abandon our sheets!
Bryan Aug 2018
One work a night
Trying to become the light
In another’s Life.
We can only try
To change the tide
In another’s Life.
Bryan Aug 2018
Blinded windshield, a steady drop.
Cling to the wheel, brake only to stop.
Beginning a journey we hope will not end
Alone and forgotten, the rules which will bend.
Lights shut off, and wipers too,
Gathering weather impedes the view.
Turning the dial to will the bass
The sound feels good as it hits our face.
Faltering eyes, we shut them tight
And activate our fight-or-flight.
That instinctive buzz, the hormone release
Strikes our body and makes us feel free.
A temporary rush as we end our day
Leaves us breathless, and hopeless, with nothing to say
Bryan May 2020
Quarantine showers are a welcomed presence
an excuse
to lay down in bed
to turn off the lights
and pull the sheets taught.
To act as a barrier from the monster
not under our bed
but invisibly terrorizing our home.
Run
Bryan Sep 2018
Run
I want to feel the rush
of a thousand winds
incessantly pushing my sternum
back against my heart.
I want to taste the adrenaline
in its most natural form
as it flows through
my veins swelled with life.
I want to smell the carbon
of the passing drivers
concerned only
with the color of a light.
I want to see the sweat
cloud and sting my eyes
Blind me, I am unconcerned
my being suffers
as I push
my body
to the edge.
Bryan Aug 2018
Does a poem need to posses a Title?
Is it so hard to read a couplet-
     A stanza-
       A metaphor-
And formulate,
     Our own ideas-
       Our own classification
About what has been created.
Bryan Sep 2018
They say go see the world
Embrace the unexpected
grasp
the unknown.

They told me take the trip
the future is waiting
quicken
your steps

I agreed
packed my bags
hugged
and flew

The funny thing is
after exploring and
dreaming
I still feel

alone
Bryan Aug 2018
Upon exiting the cabin,
I undergo broken cobble beneath my bare feet.
The remnants of stairs are round and mellow,
Yet some rebel rocks pierce and strike.
No matter, nature has willed it.
Leaving land, I enter upon a man made island
Planks and rods bring support coupled with stability.
String hangs in abundance from rusting cleats,
While dangerous protrusions threaten the innocent flesh.
No matter, man has created it.
As the water calls, I enter.
The buoyant vessel makes for easy observation.
Identifying the stagnant water, which buzzes in anticipation,
Creatures utilize my being for sustenance.
No matter, God has formulated them
To work in unison
In order to create
A recurring environment.
A reflection upon my friend's lake house in Troy, NY. A broken stove, one floor, and no service.
Bryan Aug 2018
I've listened to Bowie, I've dabbled with John
Obeyed there instructions and tried to get gone.
I've drafted the ship and gathethered a team
To disappear into space and follow my dream.
Inhaling O2---helmet is on
as I listen to a memorable song
Major Tom?
I can hear his voice now.
Release.
         A tear falls free.
As Im suspended above,
Startled to come down.

— The End —