Adventure by Ollie

A Search for Purpose in a Random World


September 2018

The Suicide Letters

not pretty, the font

scrawled letters in case sensitive

type bold, ironic

everyday the same

grainy shades of gray

what is it? worth all?

to be here for some reason

aha, yes, ┬áthat’s it

the punch line, no joke

say it weak, you think

but it takes a lot of strength

holding these ribs together.



on the Isle of wait

thing for another thing-

Waiting for a thing that isn’t drunk

on waiting.

Preach of want

Of need, of starvation

Of being too drunk-

Too many cupfuls of reaching out

without finding another to hold onto

too deep the bottomless pint of




a listening ear,



Drink up the bitter brand

get drunk on lost loves and wear

Foam – the fear of dying alone

never anyone to carry me home.

drink the loneliness that waits

in an empty house

Drink empty stairs

Drink empty bed

Drink it drunk

And stamp it on my tongue

Stranger’s love as strange is better

Than waking

Hung over in the morning

On the Isle of wait


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