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parttimeboy Apr 2018
Aesthetically pleasing spiderwebs
Dogs fitting perfectly into each dorway
Books over Books over Books over Books
being dead wood covered by dead wood inside of dead Wood

surrounded by stone
it´s what I call home

Fleeing feeling of savety but still somehow comforting
Hooks for our clothes and jackets (that can never move)
Socks appearing and disapperaing suddenly and out of nowhere
Magnetically linked toys
So I thought of something more to accompany my poem "like still air" but since that one came to me out of nowhere I felt the second stanza (I'd consider the two middle verses as some sort of chorus or "room-divider") was too forced and that I'd prefer to post both versions, since I tried somthing different for this one. Maybe someone will notice? I'll probably have to work on the meter and number of syllables, but that's for another day
parttimeboy Apr 2018
Aesthetically pleasing spiderwebs
Dogs fitting perfectly into each dorway
Books over Books over Books over Books
being dead wood covered by dead wood inside of dead wood
surrounded by stone
it´s what I call home
A small poem that came to my mind just like that which I had to write down immediately or else I'd forgotten it again
parttimeboy Mar 2018
Why do I hate making decisions so much?
I feel like I'm missing
That one thing I didn't
Decide to do
And if I have only 65 more years left, I don't wanna miss out.
BUT I feel like I'm missing
Out on the big picture
If I don't decide.
And I have only 65 more years left
That's about what's been happening inside my indecisive brain lately.
While it's good to consider things before straight up jumping into them, I do have that tiny voice in the back of my head that tells me can't just trust fate with every single one of my decisions and it's arguing with the one telling me that fate will guide me no matter what and I don't know what to do about it.
(Also I know 65 years is a long time for things and people to grow and develope, just think of it as a rhethoric device or something)
parttimeboy Jan 2018
I'm desperately searching an outlet
But you act
and you write
and you paint
and sometimes, when no one hears it, you even sing

I have enough outlets, but i can't let myself out
I don't come out
Maybe that's the thing
Maybe that's where the problem lies
But I still search

I try to craft my feelings away
And then, on better days I feel so confident
I am my own outlet
My own porthole

But what about these other days?
I don't have time
Again, I should long be asleep
I feel like school's eating me

And I just add the salt and pepper
I think I sat here for too long looking at and deleting old pictures, some of which really were a way for me to express myself and erasing them for ever (at least from my phone) left me with a sad feeling. I also came across pictures of the boys from my drama club who left school two years ago and who I really looked up to which amplified this sadness. Oh, sweet (mild) dysphoria I'll probably never conquer...
parttimeboy Jan 2018
Be Bold.
Be unapologetic, be true to yourself
Publish stuff, even if you think it's bad
Evenif you've made mistaks

Because although you might not like it
Others will

Because what we often forget
is that there are 7 Billion and 399 people
who haven't read your poem yet
And who have different opinions
(and that's only the number from 2016);
parttimeboy Dec 2017
The universe is infinite.
If you let a monkey sit down on a typewriter
At some point in time it will have written all of the books of
whatever library is closest to you
without a mistake
in chronological order
This means that the monkey must have had several tries before
doing so.
If you apply this to the universe, it means that there could be
an infinite amount of planets
full of flourishing, frolicking life
or destructive, dreadful demons
An entire planet made out of something we can't see
But this also means, that I could be sitting somewhere
With my exact same memories
At this percise moment in time
Writing this percise poem
Or I could be living somewhere
With different memories and choices
There probably are earths where I got run over by a car several
days ago
Or where you are a king
Of a different species
Of a different age

And this might make us feel very small and inferior
But keep in mind that you are
sitting here
And no matter how big the universe is
YOU are HERE and that's what matters.
parttimeboy Dec 2017
It is strange
how even on this platform
where I am so anonymous
I'm afraid to express myself
To tell the world
'I'm bi!' 'I'm queer!'

I am afraid that my poems aren't good enough
That I somehow make them ***** or less worthy
By using all these terms I value
supposedly with pride

I am afraid to give myself some space
to grow
And even now I don't even want to publish this
But anyway
Here you go
Some thoughts I have concerning my very own poems. I'm not too fond of them but I guess it's not up to me to decide whether they're good or bad so I'll post them anyways. Maybe someday I'll look back and say 'See - it was a desicion I made and it was totally okay to make that decision.'
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