Orion Schwalm: Favorites

Feb 2015 Orion Schwalm

winter

Feb 2015 Orion Schwalm

MP

winter

I think I loved you most the winter your heating was broken
And we’d stay inside all morning
Pretending to complain that we couldn’t get out of bed
Our clothes becoming little islands on the floor,
Ones that we could not quite find the courage to visit

Your hand stayed glued to my hip,
Your breath warming my shoulder
Like a long drag of whiskey
That kind that had a home so far away,
In a glass bottle on top of your refrigerator.
The one that would not be opened
Until that fateful day in February,
When everything went wrong

And on that unbearable night
When you joked that you’d freeze to death if I left you
There was a long silence
Like it might be true.

Now it’s warm enough
That I show too much skin when sitting in bars
And you avoid me like the plague,
Whispering in any girl’s ear that’s near to you
Every time you see me watching out of the corner of your eye

We should have stayed inside when the ice began to melt
Because I think
When those doors opened and we finally ventured outside
The world had changed,
And so had you and I.

Feb 2015 Orion Schwalm

Bleeding

Feb 2015 Orion Schwalm

bones

Bleeding

We danced toward
each other's wounds

with gentle step
and touched inside

and now the bleeding
has resumed

and all this blood
is hard to hide.

Jan 2015 Orion Schwalm

wide awake

Jan 2015 Orion Schwalm

berry

wide awake

i wonder if the doors in the house you grew up in
started slamming themselves to save your father the trouble.
i wonder if you can remember the last time you prayed,
and if you had trouble unfolding your hands.
i wonder if your mother knows
about the collection of hearts you hide in your closet,
i wonder if she could tell mine apart from the rest.
i wonder if your shoes know the reason why
you keep them by the back door and not your bedside.
and sometimes, i wonder
if you ever think about that night when i told you,
you wouldn't need to drink so much if you had me.
but it seems like we only speak when you've got body on your brain,
whiskey in your glass,
your judgement is overcast,
and you know i'm too weak to ignore you.
i learned how to translate your texts
from drunken mess back into english.
i am fluent in apology, but i don't ask you for them anymore.
this is just how it is.
it's not enough for either of us
but ******* it we are not above settling.
so i will ignore her name on your breath,
and you will ignore the fact that this means something to me.
i always thought the first time i kissed you,
it would be on your mouth.
i just wanted to be something warm for you to sink into,
something that could convince you to stay a second night.
but i sneak you out in the early morning,
and you take a piece of my pride with you when you go.
i am left to nurse the hangover from a wine i've never tasted,
wondering how this is possible.
waiting for the next drunk call,
for the next time i get to pretend we are lovers,
the next time i get to live out the fantasy i am most ashamed of.
it is the one in my head where you want me when you're sober too.

- m.f.

Jan 2014 Orion Schwalm

Shrink

Jan 2014 Orion Schwalm

Hana Gabrielle

Shrink

when I perceive
that I am
not enough

I cannot help but think
it's because
I have lived in constant
fear
of being too much

Dec 2012 Orion Schwalm

"High-risk Life"

Dec 2012 Orion Schwalm

Anubis the Philosomancer

"High-risk Life"

If you had the opportunity to live a high-risk lifestyle, would you?
I'm not asking this to be derogatory, nor to be accusatory
I simply want you to think on
what it is
to live a high-risk lifestyle.
As a mass, we seem to think of it as an undesirable thing.
Now, isn't that just ******* quaint?

Probability favors a percentile:
That which is unique enough
to leave it's mark
on our realm.
That includes us.

Risk, unless done in ignorance, is the acceptance of probability
More specifically, the pursuit of the more improbable chance.

Perhaps when you think of high-risk, you think of constant parties
perhaps of ***** needles, and/or STIs
unprotected ***, or doing psychedelics
but I ask you to ponder
just how high risk Life is to begin with:

Some wish to claim that Life is a granted gift
by some benevolent Father figure who has our back, (but not theirs)
but I say that's just selfish, arrogant and, frankly, quite foolish to claim.

This Universe was not made for us and us alone
as if we were some sort of Sims for a bipolar teenage boy on *******.

We were not molded after anything intelligent
with the exception of the Universe and her Nature itself.
The probability of the Universe existing is not %100.
The probability of the particular combinations of atoms within the strands of DNA in your body
are not "guaranteed" to occur. Ever.
But they did.

They. Did.

They.
*******.
Did.

As if the Universe were the soil to the roots of our existence
and Her Energy is as the water to the roots
and her Chemistry allows it all to happen.
And her physical laws, for lack of a better term, allow that to happen.
On top of that, you ******* exist! You! In particular!
With your experiences, thoughts and feelings, insights and interests, passions and even DNA!
You! Wonderful, temporary you!
Mortal you. Ethereal you. Spiritual you. Intrinsic you. Extrinsic you.

You exist, if nothing else, in a relative way.
There is no way to be certain.
What are the friggin' odds on anything existing at all, let alone you?
There is no way to be certain.
If you could bet on your existence, would you?
There is no way to be certain.
Nothing is granted; everything is permitted by the brain.
There is no way to be certain.
Perhaps it is deeper than that. I hope and think so,
yet, there is no way
to be
certain.

~Addendum!~
Statistically, about 93% of people accounted for by census information who have lived-
have died.
Statistically, that gives you a 7%ish chance of surviving this life!
That seems like a high-risk Life, to me.

(Although this is written with an air of humour, I hope you see the intrinsic truth upon which I may or may not have succeeded reflecting. I suppose it's a matter of perspective.)

Oct 2012 Orion Schwalm

I Like Your Work because I Like You

Oct 2012 Orion Schwalm

Alan McClure

I Like Your Work because I Like You

It would be
a psychotic friend
who would look at the work
you choose to share and say,
"This is *****! You should be ashamed,
You'll never make a living from this,
you fool!"

I like you:
that means, I like what you do
and I like the fact that you share it.
Remember this when your art makes me smile -
it does not necessarily mean that you are a genius

It simply means you have a friend
and that might be enough.

Some may achieve
objective experience
and a final, infallible arbitration of good and bad.
But I like it
when art and life hold hands
and stroll off into the sunset.

Oct 2012 Orion Schwalm

Nervosa

Oct 2012 Orion Schwalm

Hana Gabrielle

Nervosa

you with your eyes that shade of black
your skin that shade of pale
your hope that shade of never coming back
they don’t notice you feel frail

you left the table with a smile
your hair flowing down your spine
you’ll be one moment, yet that moment lasts a while
they all believe that you’re just fine

you return with eyes all blurry
you forgot to let down your hair
you change the subject in a hurry
you’re too in tune with all these stares

regurgitate your fears
and pray to that porcelain lord
you’ve been praying all these years
to this hell that you’ve adored
so tell me
where in hell is your reward?

Sep 2012 Orion Schwalm

there's a fork in my leg

Sep 2012 Orion Schwalm

Pen Lux

there's a fork in my leg

time slip
             p   i
               n
                        g
through my fingers.
words w   w w
o  o      o   r words
words   r
d       d    d        s
   s          s
                  pouring
from my mouth.

three children catching fish in a pond
with an empty coke bottle, annoyance
at their little voices, "Not like that!"
"Let me catch it!"

victory in death to create their own peace.

the day was too shy for me to face myself
(excuses, reasons, call them as you see them,
  even if it's hard to look at things you don't like).
unpleasant thoughts surround me, there's nothing I can do,
except to remove the things that eat away, that keep me eating:
gluttony grabs hold, depressions wits (it knows if it drags me deeper
                                                               then it'll probably get to stay).
sickness finds it's way through neglected troubles.
standing up to yourself for yourself is the beginning,
once you stand up to others is when you start to move forward.
patience, love, empathy, communication, assertion, emotion, fear:
let it flow: all complimentary, opposite and in between.
thrashing does you no good,
it simply sends you under.

I want to stick my head under and get a taste,
float on my back and breathe in fresh air,
avoid holding onto anything so as not to disturb what might need change,
enjoy what is here, be thankful for what was, and welcome what comes.