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 Apr 1 Ollie
Monsters don’t exist
Still, we are very afraid
Because we made them
Monsters. A concept so often used to represent anything dislikable to society, which we are afraid of. Yet literal monsters don’t exist.
 Mar 11 Ollie
 Mar 11 Ollie
I want to write poems
On your skin
With my lips.
 Feb 13 Ollie
Carlo C Gomez
She likes to take **** walks
through the old neighborhood
to give them a lesson in gravity,
as much as a thrill.

She prefers to run the table
than walk the line,
her naked truth, she believes,
is worth the crime.
The body remains beautiful, but it indeed does change.
 Aug 2019 Ollie

why do you tease me so
querulous and catty and quirky
the many faces you have
delights so svelte, online media
you write almost tangible
and your beautiful braid-dangles

stupid thoughts, bad cup
pollen from the dandelions
breeze by, heron umbrella
of Autumn's shadow--
the ghosts of never again haunt here
despite you sweetening
the edible tangles
 Nov 2018 Ollie
 Nov 2018 Ollie
I haven’t written anything
Not in awhile at least
And for a minute
I think it’s because
I’ve finally lost myself
My creative side at least.
But soon I realize
It’s simply because
I’m happy.
The things I write
Are twisted and depressing
Sometimes too dark
To even represent
My true self.
But they were decent
Some even good
And it makes me miss
Being sad.
 Jul 2017 Ollie
Riya S
What if our dreams come true?
You're always in mine.
All I really want is to lean my head on your shoulder,
While you tell me why the color of the sea makes you a little sad
I'd tell you I wish I knew but I'd just hold your hand a little tighter in fear of losing you
And you'll kiss my forehead and tell me it that it doesn't matter now
 Jul 2017 Ollie
Welcome to exile.
Home of the once free, never brave.
We're a collection of kids
with stones for brains.
Our ideas are concrete,
but the rocks never mix in.
We take paper cuts to the soul
just deep enough to focus on the sting.
This is what we came for.
 Jun 2016 Ollie
Riya S
I looked out the window
while sitting in a taxi
and listening to all the songs that reminded me of you.
I saw city lights,
signs flashing,
and felt the sudden nostalgia of you.
In that moment, I realized you didn't need me,
care for me,
love me
the way that I did about you.
The taxi cab stopped, so I paid the driver and started walking.
As I wandered down the lonesome streets
I wrote your name on a paper airplane,
watched it fly in the wind,
and never looked back.

— The End —