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Alexander Oliver Mar 2019
God blocked off my dopamine pathways last night
When I was staring out my window,
Looking at the street lamp and onward onto the street behind it

*******,
Why did you do that?
Alexander Oliver Mar 2019
The planet closest the sun                                
Harbors me, myself, and I                                    
I am the path on which it moves                          
And the axis on which it shifts                              
I meet the sun every day, every day                    
Waving hello with every waking moment              
In this world that’s not my own                            
      I alone feel welcomed                                                  
ǝuolɐ llɐ sᴉ ʇI
sɹǝǝd sʇᴉ ƃuoɯɐ plɹoʍ ɐ uI
ǝɹǝɥʇ uǝʌǝ s’ʇᴉ sʍouʞ ǝuo oN
ʇɥƃᴉu ʎuɐ 'ʎɐp ʎuɐ uns ǝɥʇ puᴉɟ ʇouuɐɔ ʇI
ǝɔɐld sʇᴉ puᴉɟ ʇᴉ sdlǝɥ ǝuo oN
ɥʇɐd sʇᴉ ƃuolɐ ʇᴉ sǝʌoɯ ǝuo oN
ǝuo ɐ ʇou 'lɐᴉɔǝds ǝuo ou sǝʌloʌuI
uns ǝɥʇ ʇsǝɥʇɹɐɟ ʇǝuɐld ǝɥ┴
Alexander Oliver Mar 2019
When I was a young boy
I met a man with no legs.

“They popped right off! They ran and ran, off to the hills!”
Or so he said
                               Promising him his legs, I ran off

When I was a young boy
Looking for this poor man’s legs
I met a man with no arms,

“They were choking me, so I cut them both off”

Or so he said.
Grinning at me, he told me his tales
Tales of the moon and the rabbits,
                                                Of the turtle and the hare,
         Of the squirrel and her treasure,
                                                       ­                                                              
                               And of the man with no legs.

I took the man’s legs and never broke my promise,
In return I took the old man’s arms
To right my rightful wrong

Looking back now I can see a fatal error,
If only I could have learned it sooner;
You see, I was not a smart young boy
Or so they said
                               For I lost my ears along the way
I love telling stories. This is one of my first attempts at a more literal tale through poetry [after some heavy editing ;)]. "the squirrel and her treasure" is a reference to one of my other stories, if anyone is confused!
Alexander Oliver Mar 2019
Neither vibrant nor pastel;
Dull nor neon;
It never does seem
To work with the fabrics I wear

Colors, dearly loved and undiscovered
Drape, fit, and paint onto us
Beautifully,
they are selfish

I belong to color

I recognize what I cannot improve,
because I love what could not be

I judge what follows through
because I hate what can improve,

Despite all these colors,
that have conditioned me
I cherish what I need
Despite the impermanence,
of what I want
Alexander Oliver Mar 2019
I will take the hammer to our bell tower;
Pound it to its foundation
And grind its concrete skeletal remains

Show it to the world
In every direction, in every way
You could ever imagine

These selfish acts committed
May go unnoticed
Who is there to arrest? To blame?
If I run for my life?
Alexander Oliver Mar 2019
I am an action
That has lost its intention
Never knowing for certain
If I had one in the first place
Alexander Oliver Mar 2019
Every night, I have no right to feel
Feel things that I don’t know are real
Every night I think that I’m much too high
High enough to deserve a moment of rest

Each of us drown in a different way
Different oceans, similar puddles
My own death, I can barely recall

Every night I think to myself
Think that I have no right to feel at all
There, outside my window
Are a finite amount of us
With infinite feelings to experience

I lay at night,
Every night;
Every night trying to count the finite
And live the infinite
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