ObsydianDreamer

Jack of All Trades

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no happiness in misery by ObsydianDreamer, literature

Literature

no happiness in misery

no happiness in misery (OR: My best friend died and I don't know what to do so I wrote a cento about it with Fall Out Boy lyrics) so, progress report: i am missing you to death, my best friend, dead and gone, and i want these words to make things right but i must confess, now that you’re gone, i try to picture me without you but i can’t, so now i’m just numb, bulletproof loneliness, wearing vintage misery, like i’ll never be the same, and i don’t want to forget how your voice sounds, (just off the key of sunshine riptide) and i need to keep you like this in my mind, wishing on every star, a cherry blossom about to bloom, the eighth wonder. and i could scream forever, as desperation takes hold, ‘cause i don’t know where you’re going, and i keep telling myself i'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday, and i’m so sorry how talking's just a waste of breath. it’s kinda funny, that everything i wish for will never come true. so i lie in the grass, next to the mausoleum. we

on a clear night by ObsydianDreamer, literature

grow by ObsydianDreamer, literature

Literature

grow

To the dandelion, In this part of the world, the heart of July is frigid. Frost renders the clay-earth firm as concrete while gusts from the snowies raze any hope of warmth. Things do not thrive here, yet this is where fate cast your seed and you, unwillingly, grew your roots, and became mangled by what should have nurtured. But spoiler alert: survival is no pretty thing. You are no spring tulip, no summer orchid, no autumn rose. Though it shames you now, the day will come where you are proud of having grown out of a crack in pavement.

Stars by ObsydianDreamer, literature

and this you will learn by ObsydianDreamer, literature

Lights by ObsydianDreamer, literature

Literature

Lights

and last night I saw seventeen thousand or more stars, forged from glowsticks, wristbands, and smartphone flashlights, rise from the cradle of the hollywood hills in memory. and when they played, we all screamed and shouted along to the lyrics, like maybe if we were loud enough, we could fix what had happened. but it doesn't work that way, hence the stars. and i'm not sure whether this was supposed to be an ode, or a eulogy, or a group therapy session, but there were more than seventeen thousand of us there, holding stars, and i don't think one of us felt alone. so when i hear your voice i'll remember to be kinder. and i hope that makes

'maybe there's a god above' by ObsydianDreamer, literature

Literature

'maybe there's a god above'

The last time I prayed was in Notre Dame. In truth, I hadn’t prayed to God for some time before that, my compulsive habit ceasing sometime during my treatment for depression and self-harm. I ended up in therapy that time by accident; mum walked into my room, and I didn’t have time to hide the cut and burn marks tracking up my thighs. She made me dress and forced me into the car. While going sixty along the back roads of town, she told me about my father’s abuse at the hands of the church. How his behaviour wasn't my fault, that it wasn’t anything I did that caused him to start drinking and abusing. How I should stop,

Outcast Gospel by ObsydianDreamer, literature

Literature

Outcast Gospel

Freshly disowned in some frozen devotion, I prayed my mind. Mustering some tender charm, not a trace of me would argue about what my hands and my body done. No tired sighs, no rolling eyes, no irony, no better version of me I could pretend to be tonight. In some sad way I already know I walk my days on a wire. If the heavens ever did speak, it's carried by the sneering menagerie - thrown here or found, to freeze or to thaw. I knew that something would always rule me; our teeth and lungs are lined with the scum of it. Those who figure justice in fond memory: witness me. I know who I am when I'm alone.

numbers + figures =/= everything by ObsydianDreamer, literature

Literature

numbers + figures =/= everything

For as long as I can remember they have spoken of how the entire universe can be simplified into equations; e equals mc squared, pi, soh cah toa. They speak as if the universe is something to be solved, not experienced. Their equations do not factor in human nature; how humans by and large navigate by emotion, not logic or proofs. It’s an order constrained by rules and one fundamentally flawed when applied to anything with a heart of its own.

20.03.17 by ObsydianDreamer, literature

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no happiness in misery by ObsydianDreamer, literature

Literature

no happiness in misery

on a clear night by ObsydianDreamer, literature

grow by ObsydianDreamer, literature

Literature

grow

Stars by ObsydianDreamer, literature

and this you will learn by ObsydianDreamer, literature

Lights by ObsydianDreamer, literature

Literature

Lights

'maybe there's a god above' by ObsydianDreamer, literature

Literature

'maybe there's a god above'

Outcast Gospel by ObsydianDreamer, literature

Literature

Outcast Gospel

numbers + figures =/= everything by ObsydianDreamer, literature

Literature

numbers + figures =/= everything

20.03.17 by ObsydianDreamer, literature

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we may not be that complicated by alapip, literature

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we may not be that complicated

a remembrance... becomes inspiration becomes imagination becomes creation becomes memory becomes a remembrance becomes inspiration and so on around and around until eventually we cannot separate truth from fiction this is I theorize [also surmise] one way we evolved to be the self-comforting delusional beings we are we seek the positive - confidence resilience singularly and together facts fade away unimportant the beauty of symmetry remains is this true... perhaps? llp - dA - mar2020

Just Chocolate by gallindz, literature

Literature

Just Chocolate

I stand in Whole Foods while my parents sleep 1,504 miles away in Florida. The store is incandescent and deserted. My fathers mind is strong, his body drained. My best friends husband is back in ICU. What I want again tonight is chocolate. As rich and pure as I can find. No caramel undertones, no salt or nuts. Just chocolate. I settle on a bar with a dry brown wrapper. Back in my car, Judy Collins seems to weep on the radio. I feel half crazy slashing open the package and there’s no moon close enough to touch tonight- or to wish upon. I break off a dark square and lay it on my tongue. Then another and another. Here I am once more. My

close by YouInventedMe, literature

Literature

close

oh cordillera it is still spring the world your echo draped in green so soft and gentle and proud is not nearly a bright enough word for all the growing things but I whisper it to you in the dark with a chest fit for bursting with limbs that thrum (with blood that hums) but I am safe yes I am steady make of me a nest and we will learn the name of every tree of every bird . oh cordillera call me home

A THEORY OF MISSING SOCKS by successwithhonor, literature

Literature

A THEORY OF MISSING SOCKS

also a string, supposing, threadbare, existence in quanta. see: your crumpled gym bag, the backseat of an ex-lover’s car. less flatteringly, the shallow grave you emptied yourself into beside the campground last fall. i have not yet learned the difference between heaven and vacant space. i disassemble the appliance and am only left with loose change. what i mean is that you burden me with disappearance, slip from bed in the low tumble of night and walk into a somewhere both here and out of reach. what i mean is that i hope to see you again someday.

day 4 by wei-en, literature

ISO 8601 by comatose-comet, literature

Literature

ISO 8601

it is Wednesday all day until it isn’t. never had much attachment to the days before now, saw them as the headings for collections of twenty-four novellas – who remembers days in memories? it is always the weather, the time, how your shoes pinched, how the birds sang, a memory is a picture of a thousand pieces kept in a box marked Friday. inconsequential until it isn’t anymore. the world ended in such a drawn-out way, you started counting down the days – not the hours and not the nights, weather and windfall, the absence of birds, the pinch of the solar system, all inconsequential. instead, those novellas penned in the last weeks of the world were just endless lists of Monday, Monday, Monday. Wednesday, Thursday, Sunday – unpicking forgotten gods from the roots, scalpel- wielding philologists finding poetry in phonemes and semantics. centuries of human evolution summarised in a chain of seven words: the order, the gods, the shared linguistic genes, the music,

let's make more memories, not become them by YouInventedMe, literature

Literature

let's make more memories, not become them

I do not know if the last sunset passed us by unbeknown but my breath is caught in this bracing anticipating the end of this slow end and I do not want you to go . I do not know how to couch this devotion in abstraction how to catch these words in my throat how to look at you without love (without stars) in my eyes I remain expressions small and clumsy wishing to will you weightless (wishing nightly for your sleep) all fingers crossed all hope in my heart all always all still and I do not want to go

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About ObsydianDreamer

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Artist // Student // Literature

Australia
Deviant for 12 years
She / Her

My Bio

G'Day everybody! I'm Syd!

I'm a university student who enjoys writing (and sometimes painting) in my spare time. I'm still trying to find my style and voice, so expect a variety of styles and forms to be posted.

I've been a member on DA since 2011, so if you ever have any questions about DA (particularly Literature related, although I'm happy to help out however I can) then please, feel free to ask!

Favourite Visual Artist

AliceXZ

Favourite Movies

Anything Marvel related, Mad Max: Fury Road, Pacific Rim

Favourite TV Shows

Game of Thrones, Brooklyn 99

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Imagine Dragons. Hozier, Panic! At The Disco

Favourite Books

The Book Thief (Markus Zusak), Jurassic Park (Michael Crichton)

Favourite Writers

Markus Zusak, Lauren Oliver, Justin Cronin

Favourite Games

The Last of Us, Fallout 4, Ratchet and Clank Series

Favourite Gaming Platform

Playstation 4

Tools of the Trade

Felt-tip pens and notebooks

Other Interests

Painting, Travelling

Posts

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ObsydianDreamer

May 29, 2020

on grief, may 2020

6 min read

Hey. It's been a while, hasn't it? December 2018? Yikes. My bad. I didn't mean to leave it for so long, but you know how it is. Life gets in the way. Have you been well? I hope you are well. I really do. Did you dye your hair? Get the tattoo you wanted? Did you finally tell the cute person down the road how you really felt? I have done none of those things. I cut my hair, back in the January before last, and it's grown long again. Maybe I'll cut it short. Maybe I'll let it grow. I'm not sure yet. I am not sure of many things at the moment. I am caught between doing something drastic, and desperately trying to keep things the same. For everything it's worth though, I think I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna dye my hair, get that tattoo, and start telling people how I really feel about them. Because, as I have found out, life feels all too long at times, but in truth, it's terrifyingly short. The first five and a half months of this year was determined, sharp. I had overseas fieldwork in

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ObsydianDreamer

May 29, 2020

God Eclipse is an eyesore

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ObsydianDreamer

Dec 9, 2018

Three Hundred and Forty

0 min read

That's how many days its been since I wrote a single word creatively. That's a minimum number too. This time last year, I had just finished my studies in the USA, which included a poetry course. I'm pretty sure that aside from single-line scribbles in my notebook, I didn't write anything that month either. This should have been my big lit year too. I was invited to present my published poem at a poetry slam, and had another poem published in one of Australia's premier lit mags. Both pieces I'd written the year before, but it didn't seem to matter then. I had heaps of time. People were congratulating me, asking me what was next. I would talk