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Oct 2019 · 902
candy apple cyanide
Elizabeth Zenk Oct 2019
no one tells her that those candy-colored pills are not chocolate
that no matter how many she stuffs she'll never be full,
nor will she be entirely empty.

though they taste so sweet
they will rot your teeth
and their effects shall be engraved in your skull

that candy apple cyanide
so hard to resist
so hard to not take a bite

no one tells the ugly girl with a mouth full of tombstones
that she gleefully presents for show and tell
that she too needs to eat, to keep it down

though the dissolving graves
withing her smile
tell a saddening tale

that candy apple cyanide
so hard to resist
so hard to not take a bite

no one tells her that her mind and mirror are distorting
morphing the person she truly is
into the person she hates to be

though her measurements are static
her body seems to inflate
like balloons at parties she avoided

that candy apple cyanide
so hard to resist
so hard to not that a bite

no one tells her that average isn't too heavy
that she can be loved and called beautiful at 120
and that she can love herself too

though she's grown accustomed
to the taste of acid and ice cream
and no sees no need for stopping

that candy apple cyanide
so hard to resist
so hard to not that a bite

no one tells the girl that she's wasting away her body
no one warned her of all the pain

no one warned her that her illnesses would always stay
flush those pills
let those apples rot
let your garden flourish
in the poison
you haven’t yet forgot
Sep 2019 · 334
honey
Elizabeth Zenk Sep 2019
your sugar-sweet voice
makes my face shift hues.
most every word you speak,
tastes of toffee and milk.

honeycomb heart
so sweet and so kind
your gentle embraces
taming my world of fear

you turn salty tears
into sweet honey
like warm liquid citrine,
golden as meadow’s light

delicate kisses
light sunshine touches
romance’s secret dance
our blooming love flowers

drunk off your nectar
a syrupy high
your heavenly flavor
erasing my mind’s pain
Elizabeth Zenk Aug 2019
the price you pay to be thin
you won’t even miss your fee,
it's just the feeling of empty

nevermind the color in your face,
draining into plastic bags,
filled with last nights hunger

no matter your darkening smile,
cracking into sunflower blossoms,
that you hide behind your knuckles.

don't bat an eye at your thinning hair,
swimming in your bathroom drain
strangling your hope of recovery.

now what could those tired eyes,
broken and red with strain say that
puffy cheeks and chapped lips cannot

lips like concrete, spilling weeds,
lips stuffed with cigarette love,
lips that once bloomed spoken word

but you smell of no dandelions.
you wear perfume of stomach bile
mixed with the stench of hatred.

the smell that every bathroom you visit
knows like the back of your hand,
the hand scarred with teeth’s embrace.

the side effects aren’t pretty
but that’s all a small price to pay
for the feeling of trying to be thin.
Aug 2019 · 207
my voice
Elizabeth Zenk Aug 2019
am i something other than the scoff of thunder?
other than the whimper of the wind?
do my words mean more than the weeping of a storm?
or am i the same as the breeze out of reach of the hurricane’s rage?

shall i linger like ash
or drift like sea-foam?

what matters more
how loud my song
or how long it echoes?
or how long it echoes?
Jul 2019 · 312
piccolo sky
Elizabeth Zenk Jul 2019
you’ve drenched my canvas in pigment,
so i’ll paint you a memorial,
with passionate bonfire sunsets
lolling cloud’s giggles
and the loveliest oneiric wisps.

you are the piccolo sky

the maundering thunderstorm’s dissonance,
and the electric sting of the lightning.

the dazzling stars sharpness coupled with,
the magnetic pull of the milky moon.

the lustful vapor of magma sunsets,
and the shimmering ocean's distortions.

you're the tornado's wrath fueled destruction
and the light kissing dust in the sunrise.

you can be as daunting and as infinite
as you grey abyss in december,

or as soft as april's white raspy breath,
loving brushstrokes across the blue heavens.

i don't know how i reached you so high up,
or how i can stay afloat in the clouds.

but i will figure it out just for you.

you are the piccolo sky.
the piccolo sky

sharp yet soft
beautiful yet harsh
melodic yet shrill
Jul 2019 · 392
lightning, fire, recession.
Elizabeth Zenk Jul 2019
bony branches reach,
fingers point to wisps
bottomless sky trembles,
finches tread the clouds;
a question.

chilly breath rattles,
nature's coo darkens
waves of grey grow infinite,
deep grumbles follow;
an answer.

deciduous skeletons sway
dry leaves cackle
winds hum indifferently,
sinister growls emanate;
a warning.

bitter air swirls,
dark hatred billows,
rolling mistrust encroaches,
blanketing the stillness;
a threat.

viscous jaws snap,
energy laps at dry bark,
brief clarity,
deadly faze;
a strike.

woods slits into flame,
smoke oozes from its shelter
fire coughs sparks west,
destruction on its way
a battle.

droplets of forgiveness,
ashes sizzle into ink
soot dissolves away
war's footprint revealed;
a recession.
a gentle nod to 7/4/17
the damage renewed beneath unearthed soil.
Jun 2019 · 333
below sea level
Elizabeth Zenk Jun 2019
When you’re below sea level,
the downhills are trenches,
the uphills are the visible depths.
No matter where you are, you’re drowning,
it just depends how much pressure you’re under, how crushing it is.
Lungs always screaming,
head always dreaming,
body never receiving,
hope starts retreating.
Jun 2019 · 246
sink numbly
Elizabeth Zenk Jun 2019
you can cut out the tongue
of someone’s who’s numb
and still they shall not say a thing.

there is nothing beneath
that mirror of grief
and nothing to stir the silence.

no flame to purify
you’ll still want to die
and sink into oceans palm.

so you drown in the sea
you can soon be free
and still you shall not feel a thing.
and still I do not feel a thing
Elizabeth Zenk Jun 2019
If I could paint your every detail
and drown your profile in colors
and let them ooze life into the canvas,

I’d miss a million of your hues,

and if I could write my passions,
into sonnets and quatrains
and pour out my heart and soul

I’d lose thousands of your wonders

but if I could give you all my trust
and loan you my heart
just for you to throw them away

I’d rather leave than stay.

but I know that I couldn’t stray.
My canvas will then grey
if you refuse to stay

and if I'm the one you use
my poetry will be blue.
Jun 2019 · 471
dandelion smut
Elizabeth Zenk Jun 2019
dandelion seeds
sprout bad memories
unwanted by wind
heightened downward spin
time again will show
how earth tends to sow
under leaves of weeds
unholy misdeeds
grow into mistrust
deflowered by lust
he deceives quiet well
broken petal hell
manipulated
and self-degraded
deep roots anchor tight
they cling onto fright
weeds want affection
willing infection
tainted damaged hearts
ransacked for their parts
left with only roots,
terror of disputes,
and alcohol now
so alas they vow
never, never again
they’ll forget the pen
that cleared the mind of
   their godforsaken love
strong weeds grow in the cities,
to be tainted by those who see
how broken they are.
But desperate for love they fall,
they don’t care about it all
not the pain, not the manipulation,
even if they see it, they just want to be loved

their dandelion fluff
turned to unwanted ****.
Jun 2019 · 173
kill me with jealousy tea
Elizabeth Zenk Jun 2019
bore knifes into my flesh
and bran me with your ****

i can bear the words,
wear my filthy name
  
****.

so if you want my pain
you’ll listen now to me

you’ll fill up the tub
with my greatest flaw

jealousy.

soak me up in envy
****** the one i love

steal from me my pride
i’ll drink a tea of

foxglove.
Jun 2019 · 694
you reached the top
Elizabeth Zenk Jun 2019
once you reach the surface
it’s easy to float

and it’s easier to forget
about all of us drowning beneath

and easiest to pay no mind
to the gargling of salt water in throat
you've reached the top my love
with one hand you tread gently
with the other you hold me under.
Jun 2019 · 151
change the channel
Elizabeth Zenk Jun 2019
change the channel please
the static is choking me
the digital fuzz
the buzz of the drugs
is all too much to handle
so please oh please
change the channel.
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May 2019 · 224
rip through flesh to free
Elizabeth Zenk May 2019
the beast inside me is hungry for blood,
it burrows its hellish gaze into reflective glass
and it rips what I see to shreds,
and worst of all it tells me to do the same.
rip through flesh to free what lays beneath
Elizabeth Zenk May 2019
when the hands of a chosen,
gentle lover
are not the first you have felt.
you flinch at the signs of intimacy.

because we are animals
with broken bones
mended with welded thoughts
and who cower at the idea of fracture.

because we are flowers
with plucked petals
striking with jagged thorns
and whose blossoms are choked by thistles.

because we are butterflies
with shredded wings
hesitantly fluttering with fear
and who are bodied by the terrible wind.

and alas
we wander
we grow
and we fly.
we may be broken, plucked, and shredded,
but we live on.
May 2019 · 1.3k
redwood in a birch forest
Elizabeth Zenk May 2019
a redwood in our family tree
you yell at me to shed my leaves

and whittle down my cosmic grasp
and come down to Earth, perhaps.

but your leafy canopy once shielded me
and now that I've grown up differently.

my roots you tangle and choke.
unaware of how I broke.

want me to tell you how I'm evergreen
when there isn't another conifer to be seen?

you never told me how to grow
so I taught myself everything I know.

so when you see my towering grace
know that I was not misplaced

and all of it was your mistake
and my pride you'll never take.
As roots grip onto the crust below
the sky welcomes my embrace.
May 2019 · 217
white flags, red mind
Elizabeth Zenk May 2019
beaten and bludgeoned
mind’s eye clouded
in vermilion defeat
uncognized haze.
astilbe branches
bleed into a canopy
of tinted pools,
scarlet windows,
weary blossoms.
all flags are fire,
all songs are screams,
and nothing is true
in these panes
of crimson glass.
White flags
stained red with
yew berry words.
Elizabeth Zenk May 2019
Thou shall finally be revered as that of commonality in the menace of living.

A staple of humanity's misdoings and a trademark of all we've done wrong.
Apr 2019 · 750
crazy sanity
Elizabeth Zenk Apr 2019
tell me i’m crazy,
so i can feel sane.
Apr 2019 · 177
paralysis
Elizabeth Zenk Apr 2019
liquid prism,
daydream’s current

drifting softly,
a bed of satin ribbon

hardening breeze
windy shifting

a dark river
darkening, heavenly pool

storm cloud’s rhythm
thundering fear

raindrops beauty
the gentle battering drums

brilliant flash
strands of light beams

rolling rain moves
to the rocky ocean’s grasp

mixing hatred
a cage of waves

deep blue prison
the nightmare’s paralysis.
trapped under
the rolling
sea.
Mar 2019 · 227
silence the child of space
Elizabeth Zenk Mar 2019
with a constellation in your palms
you'll mold the universe as you wish

you are untamed, an inkwell of hate
that you spill onto everything good

hands of aybss, you covered my mouth
and then you silence the child of space

darken nebulae, and drown the moon
you camouflage your hateful misdeeds

scrape the stars from the heavens above
and sweep away their cosmic beauty

**** off supernovas, galaxies
or anything that is beautiful

but when the quasar still outshines you
you can’t stop me from starting to speak.
not even a black hole can silence the child of space.
Mar 2019 · 243
humanity’s holometabolous
Elizabeth Zenk Mar 2019
intoxicate the lively soul with lies
the obedient will stay grounded,
and the thinkers they shall then pulverize

for mindless madness drifts
falsehoods become candid
and society rifts

nobody knows the bucolic
so humanity must be
holometabolic

so when bumblebees eat their kin  
and butterflies drink blood
i’ll engage in our guilt sin

insecticide
suicide
They clip your wings
so you cannot fly from
this place.
So you can never reach space.
Feb 2019 · 1.8k
Dree
Elizabeth Zenk Feb 2019
How shall I endure
the ineffable waves of dolor?
Can this apotheosis of hell be dreed?
Will the unquenchable flames of dread ever be conquered?
Whether by the hands of man
or by the temptation of sword against vein.

To bite your tongue
and choke down blood
is to live a selfless life.

Some aren't as lucky
and drown in their secrets
and they are called selfish

for not being able to do
what others don't have to.
Feb 2019 · 395
love’s charades
Elizabeth Zenk Feb 2019
‘love is a game’
then let us play charades.
I’ll play the part and sing the song
in elaborate masquerades.
Feb 2019 · 157
immortal marathon
Elizabeth Zenk Feb 2019
If immortality is granted
that shall be the day I die.

For if living has no finish line,
why must I run at all?
Feb 2019 · 1.0k
impunity of reality
Elizabeth Zenk Feb 2019
Impunity of reality

Thou that have been purified through
deafening and blindness,
shall perish under the weight of the world
when they’re senses are emancipated.

To ******* your spawn with the lies
of success and meaning
or to shield them from injustice
is as harmful as belt upon back.
if you remove their false reality
they shall crumble
under the pressure of society
and under the knowledge they have gained.
Feb 2019 · 845
halcyon
Elizabeth Zenk Feb 2019
sempiternal memories
flow like a river
the resting brume on misty waters
twisting into the distant offing
the mellifluous melody of the ethereal past

like thunder above songbirds,
the illusion dissipates into a weazening
idealistic falsehood, an optimistic masquerade
the thrash of lightning onto deciduous skeletons
awakens the truth beneath

as the roaring flames erupt
the leaves effloresce to ash
the halcyon lies are swelted
into no more than gentle dust
the endless turned ephemeral
halcyon lies
burn into
ephemeral truths
Jan 2019 · 910
goals of gold
Elizabeth Zenk Jan 2019
Why make goals of gold
and grandeur and fame.

When we all live to die in
flesh and bone.
we live to die
gold or nothing.
Jan 2019 · 1.4k
i was born me
Elizabeth Zenk Jan 2019
If I was supposed to
be defined by grades on
a paper, or by words in
a dictionary

I wouldn’t have
been born human.

If I was supposed to
be confined by margins
on an essay, or by stars
on a flag.

I wouldn’t have
the ability to create.

If I was supposed to
be defined by hatred
to my name or by my
disgraceful past.

I wouldn’t have
been born me.
Jan 2019 · 1.7k
corpse into flowers
Elizabeth Zenk Jan 2019
with a lead bullet dancing in my head
i’ll send the petals flying
onto the tombstone where which i lay
with shriveled lilacs dying.

dormant my figure shall wait
under the snows of winter’s rage
beneath the dirt i lay.

i will turn from flesh and bone into
daffodils and daisies.
the blooming of my corpse

i will be left forgotten.
down here within my coffin
i will be left
rotten.
my flowers shall bloom
and my body will be no more than petals plucked by a lovesick fool
Jan 2019 · 261
pipe bomb
Elizabeth Zenk Jan 2019
Regurgitating visceral insults
and spewing out vile barbs.
A danger to all around.
A pipe bomb,
building,
inculcating,
and storing away
immense pressure
until I
e x p l o d e.
And you will see me for the destructive force I truly am.
I am mlre  dangerous than you know
Jan 2019 · 395
bad habits
Elizabeth Zenk Jan 2019
bad habits
the normalization of disfiguring one’s self
a daily roadblock.
a bountiful collection of poor decisions
that i’ve lined up upon my wrist.
a bile curdling hatred of my fading wounds,
they are the only ones that stay.
bad habits
they are the only ones that stay
Jan 2019 · 337
give a kid a match
Elizabeth Zenk Jan 2019
if you give a kid a match
they will learn to start a fire.
Jan 2019 · 255
hot water rising
Elizabeth Zenk Jan 2019
sitting in the shower,
pellets of rains sculpting despondent
woes.
the melting faucet,
the oppressive mist
the calescent tears.
you barely notice the water rising.
Dec 2018 · 162
unswayed
Elizabeth Zenk Dec 2018
the toxicity of my own sentiments
is viscerally disgusting,
i know I deserve death

i'm a chainsaw upon trees,
oil upon oceans,
shadow upon shade


my thoughts are grueling
and the world is yelling,
‘do not take another breath'

so once i think my last thought
and write my last stanza
the world will still turn, unswayed.
i know I deserve death
Dec 2018 · 239
concrete cries
Elizabeth Zenk Dec 2018
Asphalt memories and concrete cries.
These cracks of life, formulate most of my thoughts during these bland journeys.
The most interest in these cobblestone pathways lies in the occasional determined dandelion or **** that manages to pop up through the stone.
The mundane life of such a plant never fails to amuse me.
Despite all the efforts, all the work, these ragged stocks of green persevere, but as soon as they thrive, they perish.
Turning into no more than a sickly brown line on the pavement below.
    The weeds aren’t what brings me down these roads, however.
My life manages to be even more interestless, and boring.
I wander back and forth this path, every single day, wearing away the cement that brings me to these stainless steel buildings.

However, I’ve reconciled with the crisp morning strolls, for the night is much less forgiving.

    Sometimes the streetlights bend, twist, wind, and twine with the tears that form in my gaze.
The streaks of sorrow that trail down my face as I leave to go home for the day.
Macabre figures dance in the background of my distorted vision, chasing me down in the dark.
I wonder whether or not this is my imprisoned imagination, lashing out at me.
Starting a war I never asked for.
Maybe.
The thing that is brave enough to bring me an ounce of sanity is the waxing moon,
rising up from its shadowy imprisonment.
I wish I could be the moon
Dec 2018 · 279
love is the novacaine
Elizabeth Zenk Dec 2018
the way to numb the pain.
love is the novocaine,
the laughing gas,
the painkillers.
the mind melters
it takes your greatest aches and lets them disintegrate.
once love leaves, it decimates.
it decimates
Dec 2018 · 516
acidic memories
Elizabeth Zenk Dec 2018
the pouring of acid into my skull,
the song of searing sadness
burns in a boastful boisterous blaze.
lonely leeches lavish my love
removing roses and riches,
and turning treasures into terror.
echoing emptiness etches erratic emotions
and cremates the cool calmness.
wander, worthless worms
and dare to drift into a daunting dream.
alone.
all alone.
Elizabeth Zenk Dec 2018
I’m a traveler of
your moonlight smile,
your oak tree eyes,
your warm wind voice.

The flicker of midnight forests
that light up your gaze
and reflect off your face
leave me in a daze.

I’m an explorer of
your alternative personality,
your shoreline attitude,
your sour citrus punchlines.

The melting aroma of black licorice
surrounds your being
and drifts from your hair
makes me feel at home.

however
you are
not my
home.
if only i had a home
Dec 2018 · 173
impasse
Elizabeth Zenk Dec 2018
my family is an impasse,
captivity for self-growth.
like a chick without a nest,
i refuse to catch flight,
and leave our inevitable
downfall.

my home is deadlocked
a battalion of misguidance
and an army of adversaries.
i refuse to fight
and flee from our explorable
defeat.

my brain is a stalemate
a seemingly premeditated homicide
with terrific envisions of the future.
i refuse to reunite
and save my mind from its inescapable
demise.
_ impasse _
Dec 2018 · 249
chastisement
Elizabeth Zenk Dec 2018
chastisement towards myself
for every time i falter or stutter,
for every time i can’t control
my cauldron of sizzling insanity.
i reprimand everything i ***** up
everything that do.
rebuke fills my body
whenever i wake up,
whenever i continue my worthless existence.
whenever i continue live
Dec 2018 · 123
clear
Elizabeth Zenk Dec 2018
the shorter the poem,
the clearer my mind
Dec 2018 · 145
poetic promises
Elizabeth Zenk Dec 2018
poetic promises,
metaphorical truths,
and hypothetical honesty.

the wordsmiths easiest task.
turning lies into agreements,
and unfaithfulness into oaths.

the most sacred souls,
become unknowing hosts
to manipulative malicious varmit,

once the host is broken,
the devilish parasite moves onto another,
leaving the purest of people

damaged,
destroyed,
and
demoralized
deleterious demons
rip angelic dansels
to shreds.
Dec 2018 · 146
i'd do anything
Elizabeth Zenk Dec 2018
i’d bow to the dirt you step on
i’d worship every atom that makes you
i’d take pay to breathe the same air as you
i'd give up my all bliss in hopes of acknowledgment.

i'd never talk to you again if it means you'd be content
i'd watch you love someone else if it means you'd smile
i'd lose my mind if it means you'd giggle
i'd bleed my last drop if it means you'd laugh.

i'd do anything,
but alas
you'd do nothing.
you wouldn’t do a thing
Dec 2018 · 256
plucking petals
Elizabeth Zenk Dec 2018
plucking petals from the center of a daisy.
the satiny texture of life.
breathing in flowery delight.
twisting the pure ivory teardrops between my fingers.

crushing, grinding and squishing it into a paste.
the stunning flicks of winsome memories,
turned to shredded affection
and self-loathing.

the bitter toxins
still, sting wounds of battle,
however, the knowledge of that daisy's deadly sickness
will continue this painful war.

it hurts so bad,
plucking out the petals that lay around my heart,
to remove my feelings for you.
plucking              
        
                plucking

plucking            
    
               petals
Elizabeth Zenk Dec 2018
and I will learn to tread forward

the twisting, winding, twining godforsaken roads
the endless forked paths.  
through muddy thickets,
lush undergrowth,
and soggy marshes
I wander,
and I will learn to tread forward.

the dismal, interminable, harrowing roads
the treacherous pathways
that lead straight to death.
through unforgiving fog,
cheerless sunless mountains,
and on the footprint of war
I plod,
and I will learn to tread forward.

unearthly, obscure, eerie roads
the traumatic passageways
that bring memories of the walkways before.
through the eye's rainstorms,
shrill heinous screams,
and across the self-fought battlefields,
I limp,
and I will learn to tread forward.

I will always learn to tread forward.
-
I'm trying to tread forward.
Dec 2018 · 140
scarify
Elizabeth Zenk Dec 2018
I am no longer aware if this is
a raspy cry for help,
addictive scarification,
or a self-sadist's first taste of happiness,
or maybe its the feeble attempt of control I long to have
Dec 2018 · 333
vulture
Elizabeth Zenk Dec 2018
And through the hills and down to the valley to find a place to nest
the warblers,
the songbirds,
and the wrens alike.
Feathered avians here and there with a song they’ve known since childhood.
They chirp and they flutter,
but I shriek and sputter.
They tweet and call,
but I cackle and fall.
When face to face with flocks of gorgeous birds and their equally breathtaking tunes,
I’m often left to wonder
why I turned out so grim.
Was it the way I was born?
The nest I grew up in?
Or was I never supposed to be
the agile, effortless creature
everyone wished me to be?
I am an ugly, revolting, thing
and that explains why nobody loves me.
How could anyone love a beast like me?
Dec 2018 · 106
my life is like a train
Elizabeth Zenk Dec 2018
My life is like a train
It shutters and twists
It screeches and howls
From place to place.
From country to city.
It tries to escape the path made for it, but it will never be free.
It feels as though it just wanders alone.  
It feels as though it will never be over.
It feels as though it’s going too fast.
On and on it goes.
It sees countless people
But does anyone stay?
No.
nobody peoples
Nov 2018 · 254
hellish mental purgatory
Elizabeth Zenk Nov 2018
a cognitive dissonance
a mental static
an emotional monsoon
an undistinguishable amalgamation of uncertainty and ambiguity
the subdued symphony of my severing sanity
plays a deafening, intrusive beat
in the background of my life’s outrageous orchestra.  
i’ll never escape my own hellish purgatory,
my mind.
my mind.
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