Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
ollie 5d
wanting to run
every night
every night
hurts my head so it spins like a top
i can’t run
i can’t hide
i can’t fight
this is every night
i can’t handle being yelled at so much i can’t handle it i can’t handle it i need to go somewhere i am so scared
ollie Aug 12
i listen to
pure heroine
on repeat
even though i’m scared of
and my veins
because it’s the only thing
that lulls me into sleep
lorde the only person
that calms me down
enough to have the same recent nightmares
about getting my blood drawn
whole thing is true, but pure heroine is my favorite album for a reason. genius, incredible, has my favorite song of all time, one of the only things that REALLY gets me to calm down and the only thing this week
Aug 9 · 57
ollie Aug 9
“just grow up now is just what i mean”
the bridge of a song that someone says reminds them of me
and it makes me shake
late night conversations with people i’ve never seen face to face
telling me that to figure out
who i am
i have to grow up
i say i can’t
“if there was a chance you’d be happier when you grew up, would you take it?”
“i don’t know”
i don’t know
i don’t know
because i will never stop being
scared of growing up
enough so that i told them
if i die when i am seventeen
i will never have to do it
they say that they know i
will not die
without having the answers
i say that they know me too well
yo man i’m not suicidal but i would literally rather die than have to grow up
Aug 5 · 68
julie andrews
ollie Aug 5
riding your first rollercoaster
and eating fruit roll ups even though you have braces
long walks
ocean air
ferris wheels
summer breezes
inside jokes in front of people who don’t understand them
an oxygen tank
all are things that say a hello from me
in your presence
they have said goodbye
the poetry is in the streets and eventually i will be too
Jul 27 · 52
ollie Jul 27
being born in the wrong body is quiet
it’s the kind of defeating silence you only hear in movies
and at this point
i’m deaf to anything but the sound of my own voice
the pitch
and i’ll never be done asking
if you’re bored of me
tired, even
it must get tiring
to try to understand someone
who feels so many things at once
you can blame it on
a severe case of attention deficit
or an anxiety disorder
but it won’t change that i’m the only one who should have to live with it
i drive you insane
i drive me insane
i just wish i wasn’t the only one who’d admit it
if i’m fifteen
am i allowed to grow into a man
or am i always going to be the son of a few nobodies
a boy without the answers
who’s too scared to grow out of his own skin
who’s too afraid to let out the reckless person at heart
i wish i could tell you what’s on my mind
but i can’t talk as fast as i can think
i’m wasting myself on this
and i’m emotionally challenged
why do i wish that i had talent
i’m a nobody
a nobody
Jul 26 · 41
cramped spaces
ollie Jul 26
your silence feels like claustrophobia
and the wrong side of town during a rainstorm
because everything in here is a brainstorm crashing down
too loud for me
i hope it’s quiet on your end
Jul 21 · 75
baking soda
ollie Jul 21
we want to be in control
and stomp on places where the sidewalk ends
because we never met the right kinda boy next door
and just kept on walking down the road
shine your shoes with the concrete dust
works better than baking soda in a pinch
and mother doesn’t want you touching the foodstuffs
even though she hasn’t cooked in years
it’s a battle for you to eat most nights
when you’re gonna get your hands caught in locked cabinet doors
to prevent hungry bellies from looking for more than the nothing they were provided
we live in tired houses with slumped walls
where the summer heat made them wanna sit down too
no kid from a small town has ever wanted to stay in one
and i can’t help
being meant for more
than concrete dust
and baking soda
Jul 12 · 117
i do not cry
ollie Jul 12
perhaps there’s a part of me
that’s just scared of becoming my father’s son
when i have worried all my life i would turn into my mother
in the deep hours of the night they ask me
“can i tell you something”
it’s not a lie when i reply
“you can tell me anything”
as they spend the next minutes trying to figure out how to tell me
that i have always appeared as someone who is
afraid to be wrong
but when you’ve grown up
with wrong as the kind of person you’re supposed to live up to
and the kind of thing you are screamed at for being on
a daily basis
and love the kind of thing you only find in fairy tales
you grow horrified of being wrong
terrified of dreaming
and screaming in your sleep
that i will not be
my father’s son
i am having such a rough week like bad no motivation nobody likes me week. but i wrote a poem so that counts for something
Jul 2 · 61
typing all hollow
ollie Jul 2
i want
my anxieties
they are a growing and breathing part of me
that needs
to be fed like i do
and they give me a thrill
more than they do a panic
i can’t breathe i can’t breathe
Jun 10 · 93
lowercase letters
ollie Jun 10
and sometimes
i don’t think you understand
just how much i can’t sleep when i roll over at night
because i could roll back over
and type this up for you
i worry like anxiety is to my brain like blood to an artery
and my heart is beating despite the cut
i hate thinking about blood
mostly about veins
because i have to curl my wrists around the back of my neck to cover what i feel is
but it’s not as bad
when i’m writing a metaphor
when thoughts of you keep me up at night
though these thoughts are oddly
your laugh is like siren’s song
and i know i’m not as funny as you’d make me out to be
but you still laugh
drawing my closer
i can’t plug my ears with wax
i know
you don’t think i’m nearly as attractive as you say i am
but you soothe and i want to believe it
and one day i’ll cut my hair
and change my name
and see myself when i look in the mirror
one day
my bank account may be fuller than my head and its anxieties
one day
i may learn how to write something decent enough
i may learn how to write something strong enough
to grab the attention i try to convince myself i don’t need
one day
i may become something talented
i may become something great
and that day i may feel enough for you
but all i can do now
is roll over
and write you a poem
with my thumbs and a screen
i hope that
for now
it tells you
that i love you
Jun 7 · 365
a poem about a friend
ollie Jun 7
i have always kind of disliked the color yellow
i have astigmatism in one eye
and bright things tend to blur together
and give me a headache
no matter the distance
so i didn’t like the color yellow
until i met someone who likes yellow like flowers in sunshine
and has a smile bright enough to give the sun envy
i always maintain
that it takes eight minutes and twenty seconds for sunlight
to warm me and the rest of the planet
but it just takes a look from my brightest friend
to fill everyone around him with warmth
and after a few years of knowing him
(it might be my imagination)
my astigmatism is getting better
another free verse for class
ollie Jun 7
i think i might like being a teenager
because youth is a funny word and
it belongs to me
in the sense that it’s what i’m a part of
when i turned fifteen
my best friend advised me
to stop being scared of growing up
(in other words, she’d figured out why i hate my birthday)
and to just let it happen
i’m not letting it happen
but i’m not scared of it anymore
(in other words, i’m more tolerant of my birthday)
because every other day i
‘m wondering
what’s a grown person got to be like
but people come in every color of the rainbow
and now i know that i can too
so if i live past fifty i just hope
i’m still as young
as i am at fifteen
people say teenagers act like they’re invincible
i say some adults act like they’re above everyone else
just for being older
and we really ought to just get along
because the only resounding quality in my generation is
to be open-minded
if we’re putting the effort in to accept outdated ideas
why can’t anyone else
put it in
to accept the new folks
a free verse i did for my writing class as well
ollie Jun 7
Try your very best not to think about humanity
We’re not above everyone and all
Our mock superiority is vanity

And philosophy is made by sanity
The pondering could be our downfall
Try your very best not to think about humanity

We are people and destined for mundanity
We can’t always stand so tall
Our mock superiority is vanity

We must come to terms with organity
When we’re at peace or a brawl
Try your very best not to think about humanity

The only species with concept of urbanity
The death of our planet on us shall befall
Our mock superiority is vanity

And I know this may sound like insanity
My villanelle for class may appall
Try your very best not to think about humanity
Our mock superiority is vanity
villanelle for class abt how i hate humanity :) just boyish things
ollie May 31
I realized my depression was getting better
During summertime
Waking up and being able to leave my bed
Is the opposite of depression
Not happiness
Though I’ve been gaining that as of late
i guess i just feel suspiciously happy as of late. it’s wild. i’ve gotten so much done the last few days. i’ve eaten. i havent panicked in months and i feel so much like a person again.
ollie May 21
I think it’s a disappointment that I wasn’t born musically talented
Because this sort of thing isn’t frowned upon if you can sing it
But I also wasn’t born talented with anything else
I waste so much time trying to turn myself into a daft pretty boy
I have no time
I have all the time in the world
I have this fear of being all grown up
And this desire to be grown up enough
I’ve always told myself boys don’t cry
And never understood why
And I don’t think I’d look good if I buzzcut my hair
But there’s nothing else I want to do
Shave it off
Grow it back
Grow a few inches taller
Maybe because I want to ******* my parents
Show them I can grow a lot
Like grow up
Realizing that I can’t go to college with any of my friends may be one of the things stopping me
Maybe I’m better by myself
Maybe I can cut them off
Maybe that would end badly
I don’t want to be left behind
Maybe that’s why I stick by most of them
I think if I loved all of them it’d be too much
And I don’t know if this qualifies as a poem
But I believe poetry is expression in its simplest form
This is it
ollie Apr 29
I can’t sleep
In a literal sense
And in the sense that my dreams just aren’t an escape anymore
I’m beginning to remember them
And I understand that they’re similar to my every day
You asked me once if I’d run away with you
And the memory is blurred
But you should know
That sometimes I dream of taking off with you
Driving so fast I feel like I’m flying
Because maybe with you is the only way I feel like I belong
I don’t know if you want to hear that
But you make me feel like I can be someone
Like someday I’ll feel like a person again
Like someone my age
Like someone who doesn’t want to run away
And yes, I swore I’d never do it again
But I really think I’d do it if you asked me to
If you needed someone to go with
If you did it because you had something to prove
I have a feeling like I belong
Any place can be better than our sleepy town
Because I don’t belong here
I belong where you go
In any universe or song and skyline
That’s what friends are for
ollie Apr 3
And it’s not like I’m upset with you
Because I’m trying not to be
And that might be an exaggeration
Because I could never be upset with you without feeling the same way towards myself
I’m already upset with myself
Upset is the word we use towards children
It teaches them lessons
It implies chastising
You could never disappoint me
I do that to myself
And maybe to my father
I’m not angry
But I am unsettled
Because you didn’t tell me
And I didn’t tell you either
I guess it’s fitting
Someone else told me even though I suspected
And now I feel like my mind’s redirecting because neither of us are good liars
And I write this way because I know you’ll read it
I don’t mean to be upset
Or unsettled
Or disappointed or angry or confused
I’m all of those things with myself
For not being a good enough friend to you that you might’ve trusted me
And maybe it’s because I’ve hated every single boy you’ve ever shown interest in
I hate petty arguments
I hate this
Someone told me once that I hate them because I’m jealous
Am I jealous?
Am I in the way they intended to say
And am I really afraid of hurting anymore
Maybe not
Because I have never feared the hurt
I’ve feared who I’m getting hurt by
And I won’t let it be my best friend
In this universe or the next
And because I’ve got a few tricks, a few conversations up my sleeve
I always saw you as more
this has got to be the DUMBEST thing i’ve ever written next to the odd essay because it’s so ******* petty i swear but i feel bad
ollie Mar 12
I write this passing by a house from the town of my childhood
Two floors
On the second floor there’s a door
No balcony
Opening onto the roof
I wish this was my own home
So I could invite you onto the floor of the stars
Watch with me, please
Because in this house of memories I had a lot of time to ****
Let me **** it with you
Because I’m much too hollow
The stars
The sound of your music
They just might fill me up with something warm
ollie Mar 11
sir, i write today to tell you a story that i would define as good enough that i ask you not to interrupt me until i’m finished, not because i think you could, but because, and i’m sure you can believe this, i’m not often allowed to speak my mind long enough for anyone to retain any information. so now that we’re clear on that point, your student has a story to tell.
according to myers-briggs, i’m infp. i’m a feeler, not a thinker, but don’t get me wrong, i think more than anyone else i know, just about my feelings. some of my thoughts are simple, ordinary. some of them are, as expected of me, a teenager’s troubles: school, crushes, fighting with friends. in an environment like this every day, i’m bound to succumb to the will of my own young emotion, and i like it that way. but some of my thoughts are complex, confusing for me. they’re so freaking confusing i would probably have to resurrect shakespeare himself to see me in all of my bardolatry and turn my thoughts into something worthy of being analyzed for centuries after my comparably short life. i tell you this only because i am convinced you probably think the same way—you think extremely normal and expected things because you live a normal and expected life. you also probably think extremely complex things that would require a well thought out night of reading the dictionary to put into words understood by the american mind. i also tell you this because you have made me think both ways as most inspirational teachers have—who else can make your average teen worry both about average teen things like unfair grades and say something inspiring enough that they have thoughts worthy of shakespearean translation? this, sir, would probably be one of the reasons i look up to you. and i don’t say that lightly, just as you tell me you do not tell people they’ll do great things lightly.
i write also because you told me i would do great things. i’m sure once i gather these words in a less poetic manner and say them to your face, you’ll be very annoyed with me bringing this up again. i’m sure you thought little of it. but i need you to know that after what is close to a year and a half of basing my decisions on your words, i’m compelled to write that i’ve decided you’re right. just not in the way you were thinking. i think i’ll march. i don’t think i’ll lead a march worthy of thousands. i think i’ll publish a book. i don’t think i’ll be anything close to famous for it. after much reflection, i’ve come to the conclusion that the word great falls under too many ******* definitions. you meant great. as in significant. but i’ll allow myself a touch of narcissism to tell you that i am too intelligent to let myself believe i am in any way special or significant anymore. i am altogether average - but you have to admit, i’m pretty ******* good at making myself look otherwise. i even conned you into thinking i’m something great, as in significant. but i can admit myself that i am a definition of great. i’m great. as in good, in the sense that means i march to make a difference and i publish a book to help the reader who understands what i mean in the lines. i write this because i spend too much ******* time thinking about what i would say if i had the chance. i am great as in good because i have chosen to write this so someday i can make sure the words i’m writing make sense, to you, the person i am writing them to. sir, i realize now that i am no grand philosopher here to make myself into something significant. and you aren’t either—but if you don’t mind me saying, you are one of the best great as in good philosophers i’ve ever met.
you can keep an eye out for me. you may find my initials on any book and you might see me tutoring at the junior high. but i will never turn into something significant. i don’t see that as an important part of being great. my teacher, i see the utmost importance in making myself into something so good that i radiate the feeling of volunteering at the local shelter. anyone can make a difference. i want to make many. thank you for helping me see that i’m capable of it, whether that was your intent or not. i know you probably thought nothing of what you said to me, but you must have realized by now that i’m told often that i’m a disappointment. i won’t let myself be that to you. or anyone else.
in case you were wondering, when you do receive this in a revised email or letter or even a thought out speech, i’m interested in your philosophy.
a boy with an ever changing name(though privately, he really likes arlo as his new first middle name. it’s sophisticated but dumb, like he is)
ollie Feb 23
I haven’t looked at the stars the same way in quite some time
They were always above me in their shining hues
And I suppose the yellow stars are duller now in the fabric
But still above my own, nonetheless
Don’t we all wear the black and white stripes?
They mark us by crime and by prison number
But my pink triangle puts us beneath the yellow stars
They have marked us by faith and things beyond our control
They have marked us with our overlarge striped clothing
We are all prisoners
We are all prisoners
We are all prisoners
So why am I beneath the stars once again
In a place where it is considered a luxury to sit and stare at them
Even in war
Must I be considered beneath just another criminal
I used to find the stars beautiful
But that was before they all came in yellow
Reminding me that even when we are all persecuted
My people will always be on the ground
Staring up at all the others
As they take a rightful place among the stars
a poem about the holocaust i had to write for my english class. ended up having a lot more feelings about it than i thought. i’ve always had a lot of feelings about the holocaust but i didn’t think i’d enjoy writing the poem
Feb 10 · 289
Concrete Shoes
ollie Feb 10
Eventually there stops being a
And every single movie that romanticized the feeling lied to you
This is not something a love interest can fix
There is room to heal
That allows your friends to be let back in
I stopped saying I wanted to die quite a while ago
But I’m left feeling unfamiliar in my own happiness
I regret everything I have ever said
And everything I didn’t have the guts to say
And that’s just how it is inside my head
I suppose I could live with it
If not for this desire to get away from it
I’m scared of driving
But I can’t wait until I finally can drive away from this town
And never look back
Because it’s about the faces I’ll meet
Not the ones that tried to convince me to be something I’m not
And while I’m still making friends out here
There’s only three more years
I suppose it’s worth the risk
She told me that I was easy to read
And it’s easy to pretend to be
The complexity of picking up on how every human feels will never
Be easy to read
And I can’t control that
So yes, I can be an open book
But good luck reading the pages I ripped out
i’m not really sure what any of this means to be honest
ollie Feb 5
No one shares seats on the bus
Not since fourth grade
And I’m still trying to figure out if it’s because we want the room to ourselves
Or because too many of us still flinch when someone slides in next to us
It happened in the summer between fourth and fifth grade
And whatever it is, we don’t know
But no one shares seats on the bus
when i was in the fifth grade, it came out that a girl two grades below mine had been ***** by a boy in sixth grade. no one has shared seats on the bus since, even though this boy has long since been arrested since i reported him after i overheard him saying he had more planned for her the next year. that’s just the way it’s come to be
Jan 25 · 139
We Are Worthless
ollie Jan 25
We are worthless
Waiting for a train to come
This is it
The last generation
The lost generation
The lest we fall into another depression generation
We know that kids can be misunderstood
But there is a rift
Starting with a need to get out and a need to stay at the exact age we are
We are the generation that refuses to grow up
Ill prepared for the smack in the face that is adulthood
Not because it’s hard
But because the grace required to navigate is not something the anxious have found yet
Our mothers and fathers told us that when we smile we’re lying
We are the generation who wonders when happiness became a form of dishonesty
With aliases unlike any spy
We are worthless
Straight backs and slouched shoulders
We are worthless
Feigning surprise until you can see the reds of our eyes
The frequency of the tears changed the definition
We are worthless
Capable of admitting it but not capable of taking that **** from anyone else
We are worthless
Asking our teachers how people enter a history class loving America and leaving it feeling the same way
We are the generation who refuses to cause anymore wars
We save that fighting **** for our own minds
Tell your mom and dad not to worry about curfew
Plenty of us can’t get out of bed anyway
We are worthless
And **** if we don’t embrace it
ollie Jan 17
And it was really because of a song lyric
I needed a username and I found one in the cereal
It didn’t become my favorite until afterwards
But it grew in the awareness that things are happening that shouldn’t be
The stale box of them under my bed I can only eat when no one is watching
Because we don’t eat outside of meals at my house
We just go hungry
And being king of something every time I try to express an opinion helps
In a way like sunshine on the bus ride home
‘Cause for once rehearsal doesn’t mean you ride home with your parents
Icy silence is nobody’s preference
And laughing about going hungry gets easier when you’re king of some kind of food
My feet pound against the pavement
Because kings have to travel sometime
6th grade final project
I had to build a board about me
Trinkets about how I’m left-handed and the things that inspired me
Meant to be replaced as I aged
The last thing I had added to it was the “Corn Flake” cereal label and a small yellow crown
And spontaneously
Slowly removing the pictures and labels
I destroyed it without even trying
Because a cornflake king abandons the past to discover a future where he is allowed to eat whenever he pleases
Where expectations are lowered often
And sometimes it’s okay to have your own opinion
Because anyone knows the king makes the rules based on his beliefs
Not those of anyone older
does anyone know how to speak in their own home without being screamed at because i haven’t figured it out yet
ollie Jan 13
“We kept walking the tightrope”
It was a whisper before she started coaching me
Memorized because I’d found a passion for it
It got easier to write after she’d told me to
And I can write about lots of things
Like how it’s easy to go unobserved if you keep your head down
I learned how to walk in crowds without looking a long time ago
Do you want to see me become someone I’m not
I won’t look different
I’ll just be a lot better at making people laugh
“You’re approaching a very difficult time in your life”
“I know”
I don’t need reminding
I just need some help figuring out who it is that’s going to help me there
Who I am
Can’t somebody help me figure it out
I’m willing to be the image someone has of me as long as it feels right
He said he saw a lot of himself in me
He said I have a very tilted image of the world
That I was given the world and instead chose to lift the lid and make something out of it
And for once
I’m upset that someone read me better than I read them
I guess it’s still a sick feeling
Having my plug clogged up so no emotions can trickle through into my own body
And sometimes I still feel them
When I’m awake late and someone is begging for help
It calls to me in the early hours of the morning
I would not take this world as a given
I’m going to make something out of it
Whether it’s in a way the man expects or not
ollie Jan 12
And I really am sorry
It’s not something people often like to admit
But I could be a better singer
All my friends have the prettiest voices
Around the bend cycling ranges
But I don’t sing
And I guess screaming lyrics has always been easier for me
That doesn’t make it any less annoying
I scream words too
And that story is for another time
It’s a different feeling
Wanting to do something with your life
And I want to go on an adventure of sorts
See places I’ve never seen before
See people I’ve never seen before
There are towns where they say that you lose the memory of all occurrences within the borders
That you do not tell others of the nights and the days
Otherwise known as “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas”
If I had the chance to do anything with no one ever knowing
I don’t know what I’d do
But I want to go on an adventure
And I’ve got no one to go with
Not all those who wander are lost
But all those who are lost tend to wander
And I’m a lost boy
Still not sure of where I’m going or where I’ve been
Wandering along
At least you gave me a song to sing for the journey
ollie Jan 9
“You’re going to do great things”
She says to me
“I get that a lot”
“But I never really know how to respond”
And I don’t know why
You’d think after so many times I’d be able to formulate a response
I’m not used to it after so many times
So many adults with that same look
“You’re going to do great things”
And it’s not something everyone hears
There’s not a manual on how to react
Sometimes it hurts
Because I often feel like I can’t live up to those expectations
I am made of those expectations
And I wanna make it one day
I want to show them
That I am made of more than the same type of joke and the same ferocity towards grades
I’m willing to fight back
But maybe that’s not a great thing
Because that’s an incredible thing
The fight I’ve placed inside myself to keep going could be incredible
But they told me I’ll be great
Leading marches and showing kids just how fun being alive can be
I am so desperate for the next high that I would do anything for it
This world is full of highs to reach
And maybe great things are relevant
I try to be someone people admire
And pausing at railroad crossing signs isn’t how most people accomplish it
But I’m so adrenaline filled that sometimes the people in the trains wave back
Throw your energy into someone else
I wanna go home
To a sketchy town
Where no one ever looked at me like that
“I know you’re going to do great things”
My brain is on fire
Picking apart the way they try to look me in the eyes when they say it
I used to look back
And now I look above the head and beyond what is capable of being displayed physically
People stopped judging my performances when I was twelve
Because it got too much
“Sometimes I forget it’s you” she confessed
“You stare into my soul, I can’t explain it”
There is hurt here
That cannot be mended by fourteen year olds
Who are told all too often
That their expectations are going to climb so high that they’ll never come down
That was the high they’d been trying to reach
Jan 4 · 175
Name Changing
ollie Jan 4
“it’s easy after the first step”
That’s what I text him back
And maybe part of me is lying
Trying to convince myself that it was easy that way
That every voice didn’t make me jump out of my own skin
Every noise
Because every step wasn’t easy
I wanted to run home
My feet dragged on in ways you wouldn’t understand
I slept behind a fence in the grass in the hopes I wouldn’t be found
It wasn’t easy
It wasn’t hard
But I still can’t walk along the highway alone
And sometimes the tears just overtake me before I know what’s coming
I can’t control it
But that fear never really leaves you
When I was twelve years old I tried running along the side of the road
And even though I couldn’t see it
One of my most clear memories of this morning was looking at the car wash a few miles from my house
And not actually seeing it
Just seeing a flood of black in my vision
The fear had overtaken me
My legs turned to jelly and I could feel myself stumble but I don’t remember standing
The wave in my eyesight threatened fainting
But it was easy after the first step
She asked me if I wanted a hot chocolate
I said no
But she made me give in
He wanted to handcuff me
The man in the police car who drove me home
But he wasn’t scary compared to my mother
Sometimes I laugh
She censored her cursing in front of him but not her threats
Falling against the wooden frame of our porch
“I am going to freaking **** you”
And I know if he wasn’t standing there that’s not what she would’ve said
Would’ve whipped me until I bled
It doesn’t matter if the kid lives as long as it knows you’re upset it tried to leave
At the time I’d meant it
“I’m sorry, mom”
But sometimes
It’s a whispering in my ear
That all I need to go again are my shoes and a hell of a determination
That I sure as hell was not ******* sorry
That I wanted someone to notice me so badly
That I mistook road signs for “Railroad Xing”
And tried to balance on the train tracks
Ducking when cars passed in the early hours of the morning
It was never easy
I want to do it again
Maybe to find a high
Maybe because I know nobody would care enough to find me
I want to feel something again
Everyone is off
Drugs and alcohol are really the criminals they told us as kids
And I’m just trying to remember the lyrics to every song I used sing
Because I’m out of people to sing them with
I just want to feel something again
And I don’t want to grow up
They suggested the name Oleander to me for a reason
Highly poisonous
And meaning inner strength
And if I’m going to live up to a name like that
I’ll need quite a lot of strength
And venom to make up for all the kind I’ve been hit with
ollie Dec 2018
I wasn’t joking when I said we ran along the train tracks
The muscles in our legs contracting
Turning into something entirely new
It’s like waiting for a punchline that never comes
Though so many of us wish we could pack a punch
Boys cry
More than we’re comfortable admitting
We’re born being taught to cry like little girls
But when you’re painting your face in blue, pink, and white you may as well let the tears streak through
What did they do to you
Sticking needles in your body to get the right hormones
What did they do to you
Getting cut into yourself or binding your chest
This isn’t a trend
This isn’t a trick
This is cold hard wearing six layers in summer hot as dry ice
Shopping in the boy’s section as a 20 year old ‘cause you can’t fit in men’s sizes poetry
And it’s all some of us know how to write
It isn’t easy being someone who’s going to get their rights taken away
This is our voice
This is our announcement of some kind of triumph
The day they said my brothers couldn’t fight in the military I knew it hit someone
I knew it hit him
He turns bullets into butterflies
I turn ADHD million mile an hour burden of a brain into poetry
We’ll fight whether they like it or not
Words or weapons
We are the boys who cry
And don’t you ever forget it
It’s a nail biter
It’s taking nail clippers so close they’re cutting your skin so nobody sees your very hands as female
Oversized clothes and I haven’t swam around people since I was nine
We are the boys who cry
Who weave our suffering into blankets for our brothers and sisters
Who turn laments into luxuries
Because for the first time we are fighting back
So cry into your ******* liquid paradise
Because if you’re my brother
You’re the boy for it
Dec 2018 · 534
-then put the glass down?-
ollie Dec 2018
I’m going to die someday
I think everyone has a sense of it
It’s crushing
As children we all think we’re going to live forever
But there’s an end
A sense that the play has to stop sometime
I’m disgusted that it’s expected to stop by adulthood
I was gripped with the reality that I will die someday
That the life will leak out of me like a child forgetting to turn the faucet off
Could be a car crash
Or a life well lived
Could be youthful
Could be by my own hand
A mystery unsolved by just about anyone
I’m going to die someday
And I’m not prepared for that yet
I’m not prepared to have died and not succeeded in doing everything I want to do
Once I wrote about a boy who killed every single butterfly he came across
Some people see the world as half full
I see it as half empty
Waiting to be filled up by the sort of things I can create
He saw the world as half full
And killed the little things so as to leave room for more
People call that optimistic
Seeing the glass as half empty just leaves room for more to drink
It’s just sooner until you ask the waiter for a refill
The glass is never ******* full
And the world won’t be until they let me in it
When I was in seventh grade I performed poetry
And I would not be exaggerating if I said I made people sob right then and there
There’s no shame in crying over poetry
So why is there now shame in writing it
People now see an outlet as something to stick their fingers in and poke fun at
You better be ready to get electrocuted
This isn’t a joke
This isn’t a trick
This isn’t selling joke toys to your friends and asking if they want a piece of gum
This is an art form so often ignored by people who consider art anything to be hung in the Louvre
The Louvre in and of itself is art
A design someone thought was beautiful
I want my art
I want my expression
I’m going to die someday
But I’ll die happy
As long as I finish this poem before I do it
i’m so mad abt this
Dec 2018 · 154
It Doesn’t Hurt To Run
ollie Dec 2018
Go on an adventure with me
The kind that probably needs to be justified
But I’m not here for justifying
I’m here for declaring something
I’m not sure what
But it starts in being terrified
Of growing close to people
Of talking to them
And slowly getting closer
I want to go on an adventure
So come with me
Because I don’t need myths or magic
I just need a companion
There’s no medication in me making me feel better
But I’m close enough to high
That I’m not sure it matters
Come on an adventure
And I don’t know how long it’ll take
As long as we’ve all done it together
Dec 2018 · 183
Golden Gates
ollie Dec 2018
I’m dreaming of a white Christmas
I don’t believe in God
I’m not religious
But I like to think it’s white wherever you ended up
White Christmas was your favorite Christmas movie
And I’ve never thought of it as funny
But tonight I laughed
And I know you would’ve asked me to dress like those women did if I had to marry a woman myself
I would’ve laughed, probably
I’m dreaming of a white Christmas
Like the kind you used to go on about from your childhood
You told me once
Back before phones and lives and back during your childhood
That your family forgot about you when you needed picked up from school that afternoon
You walked home in the rain
And found them putting up the Christmas tree when you arrived
Your favorite holiday
The sort of thing that never really leaves you
Your death is the sort of thing to never really leave me
It’s been a blue Christmas without you
But there are few people who motivate me to leave my bed
So grandma, I hope that wherever you are
You know you’re one of them
ollie Dec 2018
It’s not a sideshow trick
Picking off the rest of the people on the highway
Walking to get gas just isn’t worth the effort
And I didn’t want to write this poem
I didn’t want to get out of bed
But sometimes you don’t have a choice
I don’t belong here
I belong somewhere big
Where I blend in a little better
Because I’ll be honest
I’m a tad tired of being stared at just for walking by
Maybe it’s my height
Maybe it’s my voice
Or my hair
My clothes
But it all screams that I’m too different
And too meant for something big
I think I’m a one in the million
Not special
Just out of this world
A man told me a few days back that he was still waiting on me to do something great
But since when have I been destined for something great
I am so small I make an absence of great
My body doesn’t have the capacity for it
I can balance sleep and a hell of a depression to get out of
But since when have I had the extra inches to hold destined for something great
This is my world
You’re all living in it
And I have something to say
But no one to read this
No one to tell me how it is
What I could improve on
Why bother saying what won’t be read
Let me scream it from the Mariana Trench
And if someone is reading this
Like the song says
It’s cold but you’re warm
Can we hug til you freeze tonight
better yet bury me down there and i might get a ******* dreamless sleep for once
ollie Dec 2018
The first time I broke up with him
It wasn’t a break up
We weren’t actually dating
And it wouldn’t have been a break up if we were
It was a drift apart
And maybe we’d healed all of our hearts we could by then
We needed time to explore the rest of them
And we did
It wasn’t a break up
But it was the first time
It was friendship and flirting and things in between
I remember he used to ask me what we could ever fight about
And I would laugh because kids laugh
I would say “nothing”
And we fought about nothing
Everything was nothing and it was worth fighting about
A disagreement, a mismatch of opinion
Our first fight, he said, hurt like its own kind of hell
It wasn’t face to face
It wasn’t screaming
It was quiet
I don’t remember what it was about
It doesn’t matter
It was a different side of him
Worth ignoring for his friendship
The second time I broke up with him was a break
A platonic waiting for the punchline kind of passive aggressive
It wasn’t on purpose
Anyone who makes your stomach do flips is worth it
They’re worth it
But it started to flip anxiously
Like the season had ended for those happy little butterflies
I started to get nauseous around him
He joked that I’d **** him if he ever cheated on my best friend
I agreed seriously
It wasn’t a joke
It was a threatening to rip his intestines out by shoving my hand down his throat
It was breaking the skies in half
It was a boy I once upon a timed apologizing to a broken heart with chocolate
I lost trust
Losing trust is finally breaking through the facade
Losing trust is still laughing and never asking for someone’s advice
Day by day it got harder
To ignore the fact that my butterflies were dying
I didn’t want friendship
I didn’t want a bunch of skeletal wings and dead aerial beauties
It got harder
He shouted
And ignored
And forgave me for things he’d done
I wanted to be better for him
I didn’t want to talk to him
I wanted to break up with him the third time
Severing a link we’d had too many times
I broke up with trust and wanted to break up with love altogether
It came out in a flurry
A week where I couldn’t control the sarcastic thoughts
“Are you saying that you think our friendship should end?”
I don’t know what his notifications sound like on his phone
But sometimes he laughs
Says the reply made him cry himself to sleep
And I imagine a ping at my response
“i’m saying i think it would be better for me if it did”
I’ve never been good at using capital letters
But that scream ended some kind of sound I’d been holding in too long
I may as well have turned caps lock on
I loved a persistent boy
And a charmer
Who never wanted to give me up
But it was a break up
And there were no drunken hookups
I laughed at his jokes
I made polite conversation
I still hear his screaming in the back of my mind
Across a cafeteria
About every name I was for ruining his
It was confusion
It was ecstasy
It was everything he’d said before fitting back into place
It was tears
But he doesn’t need to know that part
I broke up with him because I wanted to wake my butterflies up
And I could not do that with an abusive best friend
New girls and boys tell me they love me
And I suppose I’m just confused
Because he never treated me the way a friend should
If he ever reads this
Hears me perform it in a passing coffee shop
I want him to know I love him
More than I’ll ever be comfortable admitting
There’s a hurt to it
A breaking note in every song
That remembers
There’s a love for him that remembers jokes and late nights talking and a dare devil
And sometimes
I want our break up to just be a break from the relationship
But when I hear him scream
I want him to know
I cried because his butterflies had died too
Not because I was scared
But because I thought I would be the one to bring them back to life
wow this one is emotional tm how about i yankee doodle don’t
ollie Dec 2018
Because it’s never quiet
I want to blame it on the lack of silence backstage
But there’s no denying I’m pushing myself to a breaking point
Busying myself because I can’t stand to be home
But I can’t stand to leave it
It’s Tuesday evening and my feet are so numb they bleed
Because I never stopped running
I never stopped running
I want to run away again so bad
The first time was a trainwreck
The only thing stopping me now is the cold of these winter evenings
I’d rather die by my own hand than die by the frostbite
Could you call me abused
Could you call me abused
I think I’m borderline
I think I’ve set up too many lifelines linking me to some small Missouri town
And I don’t know how to escape it
Somebody take me away
Make me awake
Take me far away from running so far my feet bleed
I want something else to live for
Is that too much to ask
Is it
Am I enough
Is this enough
Is my writing ever going to be enough for me
I know people read this and they never respond
Is this good enough to spur words
Will anything I ever write be good enough
Am I
Am I supposed to get mean for your approval?
My parents never taught me another way to earn it
Dec 2018 · 218
It Was A Tsunami
ollie Dec 2018
They don’t write poetry about the unrequited
This stuff starts slow
I love myself and hate myself at the same time
But lately I’m leaning more towards the disliking
There’s a voice in my head
Not really there
I’d call it a thought
It’s just static
It’s just background noise
It yells
I say things kindly as I can manage
This guy screams them
And I know it’s just me wanting to let it out
Forget me and just be happy
I’m not worth giving a life up for
I’m not worth it
I’m not worth money and invitations and group projects
So leave without me
I can handle it
I know that I’m disgusting
I don’t want to leave
I’m scared of it
I’m scared of how hard it is to get out of bed in the morning
Am I supposed to take care of myself
I can barely make myself eat
I can’t speak
It’s a different feeling
Being stuck in bed all day because you can’t force yourself awake
I know I have a lot of energy but it depletes by the day
I miss my dad
And I ******* hate him
I wish so badly he’d start to understand that I am a teenager
That I write
That I bleed a need for caring
I stopped being a child too many years ago
It’s his fault
I want him to leave without me
I don’t want to go anywhere near him
I want him to leave me alone
He’s responsible for the mess you see writing this
Do you think fathers realize when their sons are destined to be failures
I want to hold a hand
In a comforting way
I’m tired of being sick of all this
Is it fine that all I feel is this darkness
Am I ever going to be enough
Enough for who
Am I enough for you
Are you even reading this
Who are you
Can you tell me
Can you tell me if I’m enough
Or if I’ll ever be
All I need is someone to tell me that they love me
I know that’s selfish
And I know I don’t deserve it
But it’s all I can do not to plead for it
Dec 2018 · 289
No Pity
ollie Dec 2018
I’ve got to wake up early tomorrow
There’s a stillness in it
That you don’t find in my stomach
It does flips and flips and flips
Brush the hair out of my face again, will you
I know I need it cut
forgot about this guy, it’s a bit older
Dec 2018 · 195
Fungus In The Igloo
ollie Dec 2018
I used to wonder about walking on ice
Breaking beneath it
And just forgetting what it was like to be a person
I’d like to do that right now
I’m tired
And for once I feel as if I’m allowed to be exhausted
Because I have people here for me
My head is a trap beat
Slower than I’m used to
I tell myself so often I’ll never be enough
Without defining what that word means
Enough, a determiner, an adequate amount
Amount of what
And I think the answer is that I’m just not enough for myself
They’re grapevines I’m swinging from
And I don’t care about my safety
I care about finding a high so ******* wild that they can’t bring me down from the stars
Because I can’t risk the fall again
I don’t want to fall
I’m so tired of being happy and falling again
I shouldn’t have to work so hard to produce some chemical my brain should’ve already been producing
When I was a kid I used to walk behind train tracks with my dad because he couldn’t afford to take us anywhere else
All we did with him was walk along them
And as the railway crossing lights used to blink I would wonder what happened if I didn’t move
The trains behind my grandparent’s house were loud
And lulled me into sleep
Sleep so deep it took me many years to even remember the trains themselves
I didn’t want to wake up
But I’m okay with it now
As long as I feel something
So don’t invite me on your trips
And don’t say a word to me the next morning
I know I’m just a placeholder
I’m easy to forget
I’m never going to be the person people tell stories about
And I am never going to be someone like that to you
I’m not
I am no one special
Don’t invite me
I don’t want to go
Let me try and grow so tall that Jack climbs me to find the giant
Because maybe then for once I’d be tall enough to be noticed
I see you talk about things you’ve done
And I’m just the cobwebs in the corners of everybody’s ceilings
I’m counting money you don’t have
I’m the box of uneaten cornflakes in everyone’s cupboard
So don’t pretend anyone cares
I’m used to them not caring
In the mornings you all greet me with a hug
Your arms are greater than mine
Your legs longer
Your bodies surround me easily
Warm and loving
Try to show me I’m not disgusting
Stay on your journeys without me
I’m used to being uninvited
I’m used to staying home and picking at bread
I’m used to clenching my teeth so hard I break a bracket
I’m used to my family leaving on the weekends and being angry instead of concerned that I didn’t have the motivation to open my eyes for the time they were gone
Should I be guilty
Or should I let this fire burn so hard somebody’s scarred for life
Might be best to learn what the fire is about first
ladies gents and people who identify as neither i’ve officially reached my peak of leave me the **** alone
ollie Nov 2018
I have a buddy who smiles like high noon
It’s around the time before the moon really takes place in the sky
His smile bleeds your heart dry as if he were a homeless man begging for your cash on a street corner
It takes 8 minutes and 20 seconds for the sun to reach the earth
To remember how to give me warmth
But when it’s winter I’m wearing a beanie for a reason
My head is cold
He can extend his arms
And pull me into a hug
Because being wrapped in his arms is warm enough during December months
And when I say his smile is like high noon I mean it like his tongue sticks through his teeth and clouds are covering the sky
I firmly believe that I would be fully blind and not partially if his tongue did not shield me from part of his teeth
His smile makes the sun envious
His innocence cries over drinking orange juice
My buddy is like high noon
There is a fire inside me that wants to tell you why I insist he is not the breathtaking beauty of a sunset
And the truth is
There is too much softness in a sunset
For a boy who wants to fight
And was told by his country that he couldn’t
You don’t see the heartbreak of a 13 at the time year old boy on the news
You just see the announcement
It tastes bittersweet
How he’s the alienated student in these hallways
How many times have you had to sit back while your identity was being debated like you weren’t in the room
I did this morning
And I know he does every day
I used to see scars on the back of this kid’s legs before people were wise enough to treat him
More like a person
And less like a headline
And less like something new in this day and age
I write about him because more often than sometimes, I’m too scared to write about myself
Don’t let me see what I am
I know we’re both thinking it
I am too young to be on a stage
I don’t know where to go to perform this ****
There are no rules in slam poetry
And if I’m going to slam my heart out I better do it the right way
I am that right note to pull on your heartstrings until you bleed from the way I’m playing them
I don’t write poetry like a teenage girl but I like poetry like a feeling
Like a burst of energy
I write poetry like your parents want to have me over for dinner to see if I speak in sonnets regularly
If a rose by any other name would smell twice as sweet why can’t he change his
Why can’t I change mine
If a boy by any other name may respond twice as quickly then why are we not allowed to change them
Why are we the topic of your family’s thanksgiving dinner discussion and why are we the coffee shop poets
Why are we the impossibility of a high school wall
Why am I not ten feet tall when I perform this
Why is it ironic that I’m a poet who can’t snap
I don’t like coffee
I can’t play the piano
But I’ll pull your heartstrings like keys
Pity the plain boy in his glasses
Because that’s who I am
Destined to be a plain boy
And if I have to tie your heartstrings together to end this poem, don’t think I won’t
ollie Nov 2018
I am running out of time
To figure out what it is I want
I get chills listening to the line
Because I write like I’m running out of time
I’m running out of time
I need to to survive
I am writing every second I’m alive
Shakespeare contributed over two thousand words to the English language
So far I’ve contributed nothing
And I don’t think I ever will
But I’d like to believe history is mine for the rewriting
I want to take a boy wearing shiners to the deli
And teach him to shine his shoes
Youth is supposed to be an individual history
We are turning it into a world history
He will shine his shoes and give the world black eyes on his own
We are a generation built on marching and a reputation for trouble
We are the generation blowing off our homework to plan first walkouts and then our suicides in strokes of pen
The marching is a slow ache
And a channeling of our voices
We are determined to fight back
I was told teenagers are too young to understand true love
A definition still debated
But do you want to know what I think
True love radiates throughout us
It is a fight for our voices to be pushed through
And an affirmative nod
Of all different kinds
True love turns into war in the next stroke
The love of my generation is both
It is joining hands with strangers
Because it's still the same cause
I would consider myself an introvert
But there’s a unity in every throat raw from screaming
Every foot sore from marching
Every knuckle white from making a fist
And if you think this is getting old
So are the people making the laws we fight against
We’ll get better at our cursing with time
But our youth brings ethics and creativity
So good luck getting yours back
ollie Nov 2018
It’s a different kind of hurting
Finding solace in the hugs of people you don’t feel
Finding solace in your dreams
I’m a writer
And I don’t have the words to describe the feeling of calling out to someone you can never see again
Screaming for them
Your lungs are empty and your throat is yelled raw
And they’re never going to show up
There are no words to describe it
There is only the feeling
I could lie
And say I felt it when she died
But it was a hollow sort of ring
Something I’d already accepted
The sickness had eaten its way into my brain already
There was no setting in
There was no realization
There was no trauma
There was only a constant numbness
The stages of grief
Are a myth in my hollow and broken body
But there are some days
Where I feel alone
In a way too unlike the usual
There are some days
I wrap myself in blankets to replicate her warmth
Her worth
There was a knowing in the woman’s voice
There was a promise
She was a listener
My lungs are empty
My throat is raw
I hurt
In the longing
To be embarrassed by her
There are pauses in my poetry she could fill with hugging and hand holding
I miss her
I don’t know how to be okay about it
If it never hurt me in the way it hurt everyone else
It’s not right
I’m not okay
I haven’t been in a long time
But at least she helped
The last day I saw my grandmother
She was not awake
And I don’t think I was either
There’s a loneliness in accepting someone is dead before it has happened
I could take her hand
She would’ve squeezed mine
She lay in a hospital bed in her own home
I took her hand
She did not squeeze back
Where are her hands
And will they ever be mine to hold again
My grandmother was a religious woman
I hope her purity does not see me burn in the hell I’ve been told I’m destined for
Because I would give up everything to see her again
i miss her every day
ollie Nov 2018
I get an impulse to hack at my own hair with scissors
Not even good scissors
Just scissors
Maybe in an attempt to fix it
Maybe in an attempt to like what I see when I look in the mirror
I don’t know what’s stopping me
I want to be remembered
I’m so scared of dying
Of oblivion
Because I have done nothing worth remembering
And at this point I’m not sure if I ever will
I’m not sure if I’m just another kid with a kid’s big dreams
But I am sure that I’ve held onto them a lot longer than I’m used to kids doing
It’s childish
But I’m scared of growing up
It’s a youthful thing I’m going for
I know I’ve got an old soul
The kind that wasn’t supposed to be reborn
But I want it to be in this trap of youth for a while longer
It’s fair to want a refund
I didn’t know how to enjoy all those years before
It can’t be impossible to be young
At least, not forever
I’m making an attempt
‘Cause there’s too much for me to do and not enough time to do it
I have hands to grab and pull along on a ******* adventure
Everyone knows I can’t keep myself out of it
There’s people to bring
But their colors fade as we get older
I just want to know what color I am
For now, he’s yellow
She’s a million different colors
And I hope they shine bright enough to light my way
ollie Nov 2018
I’ve never been claustrophobic
But it’s starting to get overwhelming
The weight of this small town is beating into my skull
To the point where I don’t know if I want to keep growing
The teasing would stop
But the weight of the buildings are crushing into my shoulders
I’ve never been claustrophobic but lately I need some more space
‘Cause this place is too cramped for big dreams
And they will not stop growing
This town is too mean and I am simply a dreamer incapable of teaching it kindness
I am crushed by the corner shops
And squashed by the square
I am incapable of telling them I am uncomfortable
I can’t move
But I can’t stop running
I feel trapped
And there’s nothing to get me out
There’s nothing but corn and red hats for miles
And this is no place for someone like me
Dreamers always start small
Small town
And I am terrified that this dreamer will stay that way
I’ve got so much to do
I can’t help being a dreamer
I’m just getting started and I’m still convinced I have not stopped growing
This town is going to crush me
And I’m willing to suffocate
If I can fulfill all I am able to live up to
If I died today I would not be ready
So **** out my breath
I will hold it while I write
I will stretch out my sentences until I am mouthing words from a lack of air
I will go on
Until I am so claustrophobic I die from my fear
Until someone smashes a building over my head and I am dead
I will not lose to small town
No matter how many times I run from it
i sat outside with a friend today. we fed each other a muffin and talked about simple things like boys and bad vibes. i looked to my right and felt as though i could not breathe, because everything is the same, the town i was in similar to the one i live in, the one i was born in, too small, i could not breathe, i had to get out. she showed me a text from her boyfriend. i smiled the way anyone from a small town should.
Nov 2018 · 123
The March
ollie Nov 2018
I’m never going to be a hero
And I’ve kind of decided I can live with it
‘Cause I dunno what a night’s worth without a story
It doesn’t have to be dramatic
It just has to flow
My brain flows faster than other people’s
Kind of weird
But it’s not a heroic thing
It’s not a god complex
It’s an unshakable movement
It’s a rhythm singing about how we don’t have to believe anymore
We don’t have to care
Nothing has to matter
So my heart beats in pounding fists and cheers
I’m not a hero
My heart is a rebellion
I can be made of fire
So give me a match to keep me going
We will never believe again
We will never believe again
I’m a performer for a reason
I’ve got a fire to get out
There’s a magic in it you don’t find in Harry Potter
So I won’t be a hero
But background characters sure can yell
ollie Nov 2018
I wanted to write a poem
About a boy named melancholy
Problem is I ran out of words to describe him
The thing about being melancholy is that there’s no reason to it
And the boy named melancholy is devoid entirely of melanin
At least, in his skin
Hair and eyes, that’s a different story
His skin is snow white and his hair is often mistaken for black
But the stepmother in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs scared him so that he couldn’t watch the movie
Dwarfs, though, in the title, he always knew had been spelt wrong
And the thing about a boy named melancholy is there’s not enough to say and too much to say
Allowing the combination to be something much too complicated for a human brain
The human brain in question, of course, is entirely a trick of our entity
I am a boy named melancholy
Without necessarily wanting to be
And I’m scared
Because I’m so tired of pretending that I’m going to be a boy forever
I’m so tired of pretending that I’m a kid
I will never be a kid again
I’m still never sure if I even want to live to seventeen
Because honestly what’s the point in going on if you’re still going to tell yourself you’re not nearly as fantastic as people are claiming
I’m bringing guns to knife fights and I’m still always the loser cause I forgot that the way mental illness works, all these duels are with your own head
I hate being sick
I hate having to fight with myself all the time
I just want to be a normal kid
I want to go home
And sometimes I feel like that’s too much to ask
I’m fourteen
Begging to be fourteen
And begging to be able to commit a couple crimes and get away with it
To have my first kiss and have my heart broken
Anything is better than this
I just want to be fourteen
Let me be fourteen
‘Cause let’s face it, I never had the chance to be thirteen
Or twelve
Eleven or ten
I just had to suffer
ollie Nov 2018
I’m proud of you, still
For admitting it to me
I don’t know why
I was the first to say a **** thing
And the last
There is an art in meaning something to someone and not being able to convince yourself otherwise
And I can’t
Not with you
I can’t remember if you wore braces when we met
But I miss your crooked teeth
‘Cause it says a lot about growing up
You don’t see many adults without perfect teeth
Unless they’re like me and can’t afford a couple wires in their mouths
Unlike you
And the thing is that you’ve never judged me for it
It’s so hard not to say “well I’m poor” to everything when you’re surrounded by people who don’t think of 20 bucks as the week’s budget
And you’ve always had this understanding that kids like you don’t have
I’m thankful for it
You said that you check my poetry website
And admire the things I write
Though they’re little nothings meant for no one to see
I’m honestly surprised you never ask who they’re about
But maybe this one is about you
And how I think you’d look a little better with your head held high and a new kind of mentality
“I’m a genius and I’ve got this”
I know you don’t like the spotlight all that much but I think it’s cause you’re always watching your buddies from backstage
You ought to know by now that the backstage is my job
So you get that costuming and stumble on stage, write demands on the hands of everyone who ever told you to quit
And know that even though you’ve got a good six inches on me
Your head still fits on my shoulder if you need someone to cry to
Or my lap if you just want someone to play with your hair while you complain
I get it
Boys are dumb
And so am I
So are you
A secret, though
I’ve never met a ******* with no confidence
So you gotta let us know you can take a blow
And build it up
And sing these odes that I’m writing ‘cause if I wrote these bibles than ****, your voice could make you the priest or the church choir
Up to you
You can’t be stupid without confidence
But know one thing
It’s pretty stupid that you thought you could be friends with a poet and not have em write anything about you
I build whole castles out of these lines, and you were gonna need a room in here sometime
After all, you’re one of my closest friends
And I’m much too grateful for it
ollie Nov 2018
I dunno if we’re worth being called plain boys
Do you pity the plain boy?
You know the one
I won’t bother describing
Life’s too short to waste words on a plain boy
And I didn’t ask to be the punchline to every joke
It’s just the way it happened
I didn’t ask to strike fear into the hearts of men who don’t know any better
It upsets me to get angry
Because they say I am not myself
They say I am like him
They don’t say it
But I see it
But I’m not angry as often
I don’t insult them
But sometimes I want to cry
Cause I’m too small to make a point and my brain is too large to not be one
What is the point
What is the point
What does this mean
Someday I’m gonna shave my head
For no reason other than the fact that I can
I don’t think it’ll look good
What matters is that it looks
Help me accept it
Oct 2018 · 150
The Nightcrawlers
ollie Oct 2018
He taught me how to breathe
A note slipped into my hand
A seashell
Dunno where it came from
Thank you
For my lungs
Thank you for my alveoli
He is an ally
Who does not know what the word means
Boom clap
Boom clap
Go his hands
He wants to fight
But I see him turnin bullets into butterflies
And monsters into men
He blinks
But you don’t notice it
Sometimes I wish he’d close his eyes
And breathe like he told me to
It’s called sunshine
And I didn’t really know you could find it in someone’s smile
Until, yknow, I found it in his
He smiles so wide you can see his molars
And when he’s really happy his tongue sticks through his teeth
Bullets into butterflies
Thanks for the alveoli
He draws constellations on my hands
I think the planets are an apology
Because the way he lights up a room makes the sun envious
He’s always apologizing, why not apologize for wounding the sun’s pride?
I think he finds it funny
That I have to stand on my tip toes to give hugs
Because I am short and he is tall
Though he certainly doesn’t feel that way
He apologizes for behaving naturally
He stutters when he’s sorry
And the smile he flashes when I let it slip that I’m craving a cookie or juice is so unlike the one he cannot control
Because there are no teeth
But you look at this boy and you see a thing called sunshine
What kind of purity falls for the color yellow?
What kind of purity cries ‘cause of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?
His purity
His purity
I logged into an account the other day
And I saw this headline
You might’ve seen something else
But all I could read
Was “He does not deserve rights
He does not deserve rights
He does not deserve the sunshine you describe”
I shriek inside my head
Well this one should have torn the mountains apart
I wrote a poem the other day
He is the bruised knuckles picking flowers
He is the humble joke
He is 10 pm
He is chocolate
He is pains in your chest from laughing too hard
He is pains in your chest for other reasons too
Namely the kinds you bind about
It means him to me
And if he means good in this world, then ****, so do trans rights
So give this boy something worth living for
Because his smile deserves to stay so wide you can see the backs of his teeth
i’m gonna fight for him, cause lord knows he’d get shot and apologize for being a target
ollie Oct 2018
I have committed a dead man’s crimes
And none of them has hurt worse
Than washing my hands in men’s body wash
In an attempt to make everything I touch
Smell like what I want to look like
When I smile in the mirror
ollie Oct 2018
It lingers in the empty spaces I used to share with him
A heartache unfixed by bandaids or poetry
Humble jokes and sunshine
The disgust in the voice of someone who longs not to be disgusted
A child’s laughter
It is a highway destined for nowhere when I drive it
Memory lane
Speed limit 12
Cause I was twelve when I met the guy
A monster nicknamed “R.W.” for runaway
Signing papers in print with a hesitation only found in the heart of anxiety
It is a tsunami
It is a cancer
It has been both and neither and everything at once to lose him
If it is a tsunami I am the ocean
Taking out my anger on his home and destroying his life on my own terms
If it is a cancer I am the cells dividing cells dividing cells
I am the cancerous gene
I am terminal
I did this to him
I did this to me
I did this to us
And it’s not like it really matters
That’s what I tell myself
When he laughs
And he talks
And he thinks he is right
It’s when I remember he isn’t that it catches me all over again
I remember he’s angry
I remember he thought it fine to call me every name in the book as long as he apologized
I remember he had no respect for the things I found offensive
For the things others found offensive
And I want to be away from him
It’s not worth it to be that close to someone all for them to betray you all over again
But if I’m a slow cancer then give me some chemo
Cause I’d give anything to have just the boy who laughed
He’s gone
If chemotherapy kills the cancer give me some of that
Dead and united with the boy who laughed
Leaving behind traces of a suit and tie
And a boy who yells so loud my ears can’t tell the difference between his scream and an aeroplane taking off
Is it worth it?
Next page