I don't want to be here. | Olivia J

"One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple," -Jack Kerouac

A really bad poem about wanting to leave for college. Enjoy as best you can. 

~

I don't want to be here.

Stuck in this place

 where dreams come to die.

Stuck in the place

 where people come to settle. 

I don't want

my pieces to settle 

in the bones of 

someone else's life. 

The lines that separate us

are sprawling suburban lawns

and the ones that cleave status. 

The places I found myself

were somewhere else. 

Somewhere far from 

the mundane 

the ordinary

the stereotype. 

I don't want to be here

where the stars flicker out at 5pm

where everyone pretends they're different

where what I do is a novelty.

I want to be somewhere

where the city never sleeps

where my people are

where adventure and life springs at the corners. 

I want to be somewhere

where my strings

sever like autumn leaves

where my roots are exposed

like the breathings of my heart

where each new day

brings a new face

where I can forget

the person I was

where I can forget

the person you think I am. 

This place would be beautiful

colorful

lively

passionate

hard

soft

new

old

everything

in between. 

This place would be

everything

my home

cannot be.

I have overstayed my welcome.

My soul has traversed on

while my body remains here

stuck in an all-to-familiar place. 

I dream of a place

where my eyes are painted in color

where the streets are paved in gold

where the city bleeds words

where I can find my place

outside of nowhere. 

And this place

it would be me

really

truly

me. 

~

This would probably be better as a slam poetry video but I don't know how to do slam poetry or make a good video so. 

Oh well.  

~The WordShaker

The Man On the Rock | Short Story

"My time is best used by making art, not worrying about whether it's good or bad."

For the love of God, words can't express how I feel. But I suppose I can try, in the most cryptic and creative way possible, as per usual. 

~

The railroad tracks stink with that twinge of metal. The spaces between the trees hold my heart. 

My hands, they ache and crack with overuse. At the places where my heart rests in between the branches, rain falls. 

Cold and aching, the water drenches me. I hold my brother even if he doesn't want me to, because I know he needs it. 

The rain falls but the sun shines. A conglomeration of stars I'll never begin to understand. 

For every step I take, the rails peel further and further apart. The sun is lined with iron and the clouds silver. 

I cast a line made of my own veins. Off a bridge made of iron and oak, the water swallows the green and yellow land. 

Slivers of fish swim by, far below. My spine grinds beneath my armor made of tissue paper skin. 

Brushing it's comforting fingers over my face, the air meanders past, warm and sweet. For a moment, I can't breathe. 

Sorrow dances on the wind like ribbons. I toss a red one down into the white water. 

It moves and bends and forms along with the current. A depth rises in my bones, from the metal below. 

Along comes a yellow light and a steaming engine, plowing through the sun and rain and greenery. Things of little meaning flutter off the trees. 

For another moment, I can't breathe. The air presses against me, and the sun, the iron god, explodes in a million different rays that make everything look so damn beautiful. 

The hot, metal rails move further and further apart, ripping apart a great divide. I jump, and for a fleeting moment, I believe I'm flying with all the other leaves and butterflies and birds. 

Four timeless moments, I feel. Four timeless moments, I become. 

Four timeless moments shed off of me like the jacket flying behind me. 

From under the water, the rain makes coin sized stalactites. The in between space, that place, is the place I can feel. 

The train shudders through the forest, across the bridge. Fish wrap their way around my submerged body, in ribbons of silver. 

For a moment, I can't breathe. The sun, the sky, everything glitters like diamond and solid gold. 

The current pushes me along, across the slick rocks and the souls in the river. I suppose this is where the ducks go when the pond freezes over. 

Frightful, I emerge from the water. The golden sun touches everything, blessing it with threads of the brightest yellow. 

Beyond the rapids is a waterfall, where the trees bow before the man on a rock. The man on the rock tells me to jump, and again I feel strange. 

And again, four timeless moments, I feel. Four timeless moments, I become. 

Four timeless moments shed off of me like the water droplets that crystalize into gold. 

Old and haggard, the man tells me to swim to the bottom of the lake. A deep and murky darkness stretches out below my feet. 

I tell him that he's crazy, that I'll drown. And he tells me that he knows already. 

Inflating the tired balloons in my chest, I dive. The water cuts through me and I believe for just a moment that I'm flying again. 

Through the darkness, through the blind mud, an emerald that shines like a star unfolds before my eyes. I reach out and a soft light begins to flood me, begins to flood the whole lake.

Like flaking rust off of iron railroad tracks, this jewel becomes my armor, becomes my flesh and blood and the cloak I wear. The water has those divets of raindrops on its surface once again. 

The man on the rock smiles at me, but it's only now that I realize he has become a part of the rock, a part of the lake. The moss and algae leave behind streaks on my fingers. 

Still, the scent of wet metal travels through the sweet air. I wave goodbye to the man on the rock, and face the expanse of trees before me.

Leaving my fishing pole behind, I suppose I should try and find a way back up the hill, to the railroad tracks. My brother is still up there, and he needs to find the waterfall as well. 

~

Well. I have no idea what the hell that was. If someone wants to tell me what they think it means, that would be great. 

~The WordShaker

The Worst Kind of Break-Ups | Olivia J

"Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened," -Dr. Seuss

Breakups are bad, no matter what. 

But the worst kind of breakups are the sad ones. The ones where you still like each other, but there's no possible way you can make it work. The ones where what seems so perfect just fades away, burns out. The ones where it's mutually understood that no amount of talking, no amount of anything could make it work. 

The worst ones are where you feel a whirlwind of emotions. Sadness, disappointment, frustration; nostalgia, thankfulness, peace. The ones where you stay friends, but it still hurts because it's something lost. 

The worst ones are where your two paths cross in the universe for just a moment. The stars explode, planets align, and then the axis of life turns again, and both are forced to move on. 

The ones where you can't possibly be mad at the other person, because it's not their fault. It's no one's fault. And that's just the way life is. 

And it'll hurt. But it'll get better, with or without them. 

With love, 

~The WordShaker