Meandering Late Night Thoughts, Crappy Poetry in Entries of Great Significance

  • Oct. 18, 2015, 10:58 p.m.
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Rambling Man

I wrote a poem for the first time ever this morning on my phone. I woke up sometime after 8am, after a late night, and I wanted desperately to go back to sleep. I wanted that so much. And yet I couldn’t.

Some lines kept dancing in my mind, making thuds with every word silently spoken on my forehead. There was no use trying to return to much needed rest in the black. So I began slowly swiping on my phone until I had pieced together a poem. It’s awful. I don’t really care, though.

Tigers Roar

It has been a good weekend. A great one, really. I had a nice night on Friday. I was up until 6am, and then had to get up at 10am to give Meredith (Ian’s girlfriend) a ride to work. She fought with her mom, and her mom was her ride and Ian was out the house at 7am to get to work on the northshore.. He says he’ll do something nice for me, but I’m not really holding my breath. I know he will want to, but Meredith.. eh. She’s fine. I accept people for who they are, but I’m still irritated she never paid me back like she said she would several times for drinks at karaoke. She’s such a child sometimes. I feel for Ian’s spot though seeing as he loves her. I’m trying to stick it through with him.

Then all day Saturday was college football madness. The ending to the Michigan vs. Michigan State game was uncanny. Funny, too. Texas A&M didn’t disappoint. They got rolled by Alabama (get it? rolled? Roll Tide? Fine.. my sports humor lost on the masses..) A&M fans are so arrogant and their team is so soft.

Then it was the main course.

8 Florida at #6 LSU.

This is how the game was won by Les Miles aka The Mad Hatter:

Fake field goal for the win? Hells yeah, squirrel. I’ll take it.

Brian was going to be a very sad panda had my Tigers lost.

Instead.. My Tigers are beasting right now. Geaux Tigers!

Yes, I spelled Geaux correctly. It ain’t go in Cajun country. ;)

Sunday Fun Day? Eh.

So that leads us up to Sunday, and I eventually wrote the poem, got up, and spent literally all day from 9am until about 4pm cleaning house, throwing stuff out, and sorting through massive amounts of papers, and items and stuff that has accumulated in the house over much of my illness.

I did end up going over for a grill party at Sam and Steve’s. Burgers were amazing as usual. Sam made great brown rice with broccoli. She’s on a health kick. Her Packers pulled out a nailbiter. I was happy for her. But I had to get home to go through more stuff.. gotta prep for the potential roommate Sean.


I came across a lot of unexpected things of Shayla’s and even more shockingly many personal items from my mom.

I’d like to say it was an enjoyable moment, the kind you embrace the reminiscing and get lost within the warm glow of nostalgia.

It really was the opposite.

I wanted to crawl into a hole, bury myself beneath the stars, and let them burn out as they plunge me into darkness. The feeling of being swallowed whole by moments of loss and of guilt and of regret..

It’s happened a lot lately.

I don’t talk about it. To anyone.

I keep them all to myself. If I mention it, it’s cursory or indistinct.

I don’t want to share my pain.

Smile through the pain.

My life’s legacy and lasting mantra, most likely, is very much that.

The thoughts are awful. And I don’t know how to handle it. I thought I did everything I possibly could in each situation, and yet I still feel a dark cloud occasionally find its way to my sunny disposition and black out the pillowed white clouds and pristine blue skies.

So I just put on music, watch a game, or write it out in a way no one but me will ever be able to distinguish.

Because this is for me, I think, this suffering. It will make me a better man.

It always has, even when it’s come close to unraveling me all the same.

I’m tired of writing about this.

Current Favorite Song

Carencro, Louisiana’s own Marc Broussard.. his song titled “Hurricane Heart”

I wish it didn’t go down like this
I didn’t mean to break your heart, I’m just reckless
What a long shot love we had to begin with
I wish it didn’t go down like this
My hurricane heart, you’re picking up the pieces

Here’s the crap I wrote today.

And sometimes the inspiration is pretty fucking obvious.

“Strong One”

If I was useless
Then I’d be you
If the world failed to judge me
I could always count on you

When I had a tube
Shoved down my throat
Providing me breath
Oh, what a wondrous machine
I realized then
That it loved me more
Than any part of you
Ever did

When I was too weak
To literally stand on my own
I forced upon myself
I needed you to be my anchor
My sturdy shoulder
Hardened rock
Cause until then
I had always been
The strong one

Yet I would lay there
Entangled in lines
Pretending you cared
Hoping you might find time
To offer me company
Before the sunlight gave way
To another sleepless night
Under the dark moon of agony

I used to steel myself
And try not to cry
Where anyone else might see
Just how deeply it burned
That I was not worthy
Of priority

I would be lying
If I were ever to say
That it no longer lingers
No, not your heart in mine
Rather how you later
You did not think
I would ever recover

That’s the heartless part
And the hardest break
Know that your lack of love
Hurt me far less than
Your lack of faith

If I had died
I would be reborn
The very next day
And I’d still find a way
To be a better man
Than you ever deserve

Always trust in
This one simple thing
Believe in me
Do not ever doubt me
I have a bad habit
You see
Of besting long odds
And proving all wrong
Cause I shall always be
The strong one

Brian Milici
October 18, 2015

May you always find your smile.

Last updated October 18, 2015

Waiting For Sunrise October 21, 2015

Perhaps it should be strange that grief demands to be held tightly in closed fists, but words cannot do it justice, they aren't big enough for the pain and someone's said them all before... I suppose it makes sense to keep those things inside, where we can know their truth and not feel that we have cheapened them with a description that paints only half a picture.

LoveSuicide Waiting For Sunrise ⋅ October 23, 2015

How is it you're able to make such pain sound so elegant and pretty?

Rubbish! I want to be so damned eloquent as you. I do!

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