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860 · Mar 2015
Agoraphobia
Tatum O'Brien Mar 2015
Five hundred and fifty...
that's how many square feet I have,
all to myself, the kitty,
and the dog, but there's no bath.

Yet, there's plenty of room for solitude.
It seems to be the easiest thing to resume.
Not saying hello is socially rude,
but what they don't know, is that it feels like doom.
612 · Nov 2014
Anxiety
Tatum O'Brien Nov 2014
Oh! Anxiety,
wash over me.

Coat my body,
in hot chilly sweat.

My palms are waterfalls.
My feet are ice.
My armpits are needles.

Anxiety,
watch over me.

Forget the. . .
apparently it wasn't worth remembering.

Speed to where I need to be.
Ah ha! I recall what I forgot.
In order to be where I needed,
to be.

Anxiety,
listen to me.

And to the whispers,
that taunt and harass me.

Wait,
Listen to them first.
Then me.

Anxiety.
Please leave.
434 · Aug 2014
If you have a cat.
Tatum O'Brien Aug 2014
Were it easier to be that cat,
who sits in the corner.
Staring right back...
As if I were the foreigner.

Boldly lifting my back paw,
not breaking eye contact.
And as if it were a sight you never saw,
One cat ******* ransacked.

No ***** given,
that's what I see in that cat.
Boldly driven,
and not looking back.
378 · Nov 2014
You Asked,
Tatum O'Brien Nov 2014
"Since when do you have,
a tolerance to alcohol?"

I grimaced, but you took it
as a smile. Misunderstanding,
as always. Quit.
I have been noticing.

How much love hurts,
when only one gives.
And receive less in return.
I have taken to supplement.
376 · Nov 2014
In the Evening Sunlight
Tatum O'Brien Nov 2014
The ceiling fan goes cn-ch cn-ch cn-ch.
Light through the blinds highlight dust motes.
The cat sits by the door, eye on the finch.
Simple things catch my thoughts.

I imagine your finger,
oh your fingers.
Running down my back,
and across my hips.
Gently brush my buttocks as
they slide down my thigh,
and cusp the back of my knee.

Tugging me closer to you,
drawing my knee above your hip.
I smell your skin,
it smelled like I always imagined.
Embarrassed of the intoxication of scent,
my hair falls over my warm face.

My knee is left cold,
your hand cradles my face for a
moment.
Pushing my hair away, I can not help but
be stayed by the passion in your eyes.
I sighed.
And finally opened my eyes.

The cat stares across the studio.
The finch had long flown away.
I stare at my empty bed.
**** these thoughts,
and **** the inability to cure them.
I know I could, but I would rather
have you do that.
353 · Nov 2014
This cycle,
Tatum O'Brien Nov 2014
What hell it is to live and breathe.
However, I do love this hopeless recital,
of throwing myself off the nearest cliff, and live.

Only to be disappointed that it did not hurt.
That in fact, I had not felt a thing.
Sure some time wasted, a taste of dirt.
Oh, pleasure in my sheets, but no hearts ring.

To feel that rush again, of falling!
Swiftly, sweetly, almost sickeningly.  
A fantasy. Characteristics of you, my darling,
is what I fall for, each and every time. Jokingly.
349 · Nov 2014
Beauty Most Astound,
Tatum O'Brien Nov 2014
Come sit beside me here on this beach.
Take off your shoes, throw your jacket awry.
Lay beneath the sky and put your arms at widest reach.

Beauty most profound,

Take a breath that starts from your toes,
and makes its way up in your head in dizzying air.
And let it go so softly, that nobody knows.

Beauty that goes uncrowned.

Our mother knows how to comfort us.
She sings in tunes we recall from childhood.
Love her, we must.
Tatum O'Brien Sep 2014
What is it that which we do,
makes no matter which way we go,
a harrowing event that falls to the wayside,
destitute and broken, filled with blight.

Roll over and shun our own self.
Reject I, that am all but gone.
Pity self, pity selflessly.
Then reject that too.

Look at the sky,
past the buzzards circling the ravishing corpse.
Once there was more,
and there will be again, a New World harks.

Time passes in longevity,
yet in the blink of an eye-
it becomes the past.
Always so long ago.

Ravines fill with raging rivers,
rushing without respite.
Not realizing that it takes time,
all the energy at once can not change everything.

Not at once.

Lay fallow, heal our wounds.
Rise again with elegance,
or at least determination.

And do it all over again.
From start to finish.
Break down, over and over again.
And do it with finesse.
311 · Oct 2014
Who was she?
Tatum O'Brien Oct 2014
Who was she?
What were habits,
and quirks?
That made you smirk so softly
at the mention of her name.
Do you still see her?
As you drive around town, remember the past places
that you and her both occupied.
Do you take me to the same places?
Who was she?
And who am I,
except a girl who has come to realize.
That maybe it's not me that you like,
but the similar mannerisms that I have compared to her.
Who am I?
Am I the rebound?
306 · Aug 2014
Undone
Tatum O'Brien Aug 2014
Reach for me,
   like the wings of birds reach,
       kissing the wind soft and tenderly.
               Bold, but not daring a siege.
                       A hawk singing a melody.

Fall into me,
   not like a pebble causes a ripple.
      But as boulder would off a mountain.
           with chaotic energy pure and simple.
                Reactions amounting.

But do not love me.
Those words would have become undone.
298 · Nov 2014
Make Me
Tatum O'Brien Nov 2014
Feel vulnerable,
and I mean that in the best way possible.

Let me confide in you,
and tell you secrets you would never guess.
Secrets that I keep from myself.

Allow me to need you.
Not forever, but
at least for a moment.

The moment after I throw my arms around you.
And then you hold me,
and let me crumble into you with out restraint.
271 · Aug 2014
Untitled 1
Tatum O'Brien Aug 2014
I am only human,
and so are you.

A biochemical machine,
with a soul.

Billions of years just,
for this moment.

Waiting to press,
my soul with yours.

What are the chances,
that our hearts beat together?
252 · Nov 2014
Time
Tatum O'Brien Nov 2014
I share my time;
Often with those who do
not share their time.
A second or two,
if they are feeling generous.

I understand.
We all have our own time,
to live and breath,
to fight and forgive.
But you never take the time to notice.

Notice what?

Anything, anything at all.
The floor boards.
Some are missing inches on the side,
leaving a ravine for dust to gather.
And others have been stained
By time in the sun.

Silverware never goes in the wash,
instead you do them by hand.
Blue ones go in the cup, the rest in the drawer.
I never bothered to ask,
but I noticed the quirk.

I notice the sugar crystals
on the counter top next to the coffee ***.
You had set the spoon there,
instead of the sink. I did not want,
to say anything.

I wanted you to think
of me first. Selfish of me I know.
I wanted you to notice
my mannerisms and habits of home.
But you have never taken the time.

— The End —