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1.6k · Feb 2013
Leviathan
Sean Briere Feb 2013
This ship is sinking, your sea is violent.
There's so many words I have for you.
Never spoken.
Instead they take a pill, fall asleep inside my head.
These watery words rise above me.
They travel down my throat and into my lungs.
I thought I took enough air before I went under.
How wrong I was.
Calm.Quiet.Ocean.
I'm struggling now.
Reaching out to nothing there.
I can't seem to get back to the top.
Blue.Green.Silver.
There's an anchor pinning me to your ocean floor.
Your waves have swallowed me whole.
Jetsam tumbling through like driftwood on high seas.
I set my eyes on two green jewels.
I'm locked on them.
Two lighthouses guiding me through this storm.
I should swim away from them.
Instead they draw me near, beckoning to me.
I swim hard, I swim fast.
I'm out of breath.
I can no longer go on.
999 · Feb 2013
Grey and Orange
Sean Briere Feb 2013
Light breaks through the littered cinerescent clouds as I watch from a Windex streaked window

Tangerine incandescence fighting it's way through as dusk approaches

Warm rays caress my face through shadows of the evergreens that line the street

As if a reflection of a giant brass *** was being cast into my living room

Fragments of dust filter through the clementine colored air

sitting cross legged on an old Persian rug covered in dog fur

A weather beaten Japanese maple scratches its fingers on the window

The stellar jays bask in this rare gift, hopping from branch to branch

The inevitable gloom and grey catching up

Ashen warfare surging on a daisy farm

A sense of malevolence runs through the clouds

A split screen between the high spirits and the melancholy

The Castor and Pollux of the skies

Like a giant wondrous creamsicle threatened of being swallowed up by the smoke

This contention sends them blissfully unaware of the eclipsing nightfall that is upon them

Twilight enraptures the heavens, ending in nebulous sovereignty
735 · Feb 2013
Stripped
Sean Briere Feb 2013
I sat there perched on the porch
Cigarettes in hand
Long drag into my lungs
Full moon like a beacon
A spider spins it's web intricately
His hands like flames
Burning to touch me
But he does not want to turn me to ash.
693 · Feb 2013
Stars
Sean Briere Feb 2013
It figures she's looking out at the stars again
Lost in air
Lost in breath
I thought i'd find her laying here
Coffee growing cold
A view from the window
Rain puddles on the sidewalks
Desire tingles in her feet. To get up
To travel planets. To love, all at once
She sits on the edge of her dresser
And twists daisies in her fingers
Soon she'll fly out of here
She pulls out her suitcase
She packs all the unnecessary things
Like broken glass and fairy wings
I hear the "ziiiip" of her freedom
She knows it too
I hear the slam of the taxi door from outside
And so I go lay down on my bed and stare at the stars
Written when I was 16, and I'm really proud of this one.
193 · Feb 12
Leviathan
Sean Briere Feb 12
This ship is sinking.
Your sea, violent.
Lightning flashes through my mind.
There are so many words I have for you.
They try to make their way past my lips, but they are krill trapped in a baleen maw.
Instead they take a pill, fall asleep inside my head. These watery words rise above me.
They travel down my throat and into my lungs.
I thought I took enough air before I went under. How wrong I was.
Calm.Quiet.Ocean.
Deafening.
I'm wriggling now.
My eyes frantically searching.
The abyss stares back.
There’s a weight in my chest.
Blue.Green.Silver.
An anchor pins me to your ocean floor.
Waves have swallowed me whole.
Jetsam tumbling through like driftwood on high seas.
I set my eyes on two green jewels glittering bewitchingly.
I'm locked on them.
Two lighthouses guiding me through this storm.
I should swim away from them.
Instead they draw me near, beckoning to me.
I dive down.
I am under their thrall.
I swim hard, I swim fast.
My chest compresses.
I’m out of breath.
My body thrashes and then surrenders.
I never had a chance.
Tiny bubbles make their way upward like small galaxies holding the last of me.
139 · 1d
Dopamine: A Haiku
A constant craving
The laundry just sits and sits
The itch that won’t scratch
A mangled bird slumps in her gilded cage
Surrounded by opulence and feasts she cannot savor
Golden bars festooned with rolling joints and popping bones
A doll sewn by a child's hand
Pull her thread as she buckles like a blueberry
Blood
A viscous syrup in her legs
Sticky confluence
Heartbeat like a hummingbird
The nectar would likely cause an eruption of glowing pink hives
A rosy sanguine sea
Vision blurring
Rumination like hands on a clock
Round and round
Living days like
Copy, paste
Groundhog's Day
Oh, look, it's night again
Ice packs and Epsom baths
Erratic dreams
The clock resets
Oh, joy, it's day again
I wrote this to get my frustrations out about my chronic illnesses. I recently had an episode at work in front of my coworkers and I'm working through the grief and rage I'm feeling about that wall I thought I was hiding behind so well coming crashing down so publicly.
Leave the flowers be
Let them bask
Let them live a full life until they shrivel into themselves until next season
Resist the urge to fix
Let other people have hard feelings
Meet uncomfortably with curiosity
Take it in your arms like a dancing partner
Let it swirl around you
Watch it dissipate like smoke
***** safety nets all around your mind
Crawl into pillow forts of regulation
Look for dew on the grass in the morning
Let the sun kiss your feet
Eat an extremely ripe mango
Paint your nails on the porch
Breath into your belly
Your life is happening right now
And right now
And right now

— The End —