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ZS Aug 2016
you wish that you could fix everything
but you are just one human living one flawed existence
you've made your mistakes
and I can't believe you managed to do this

you left the girl who wrote i love you's in the snow and kissed your cold lips for six months over an ill-conceived thought formed by the disease devouring your brain

you let the impulsive mania take over
quickly devour all the love that she had for you
all of the time she gave to you
and spit it all back in her face

and left me with the mess that you made
i wrote this a while back, we have since gotten back together and are coming up on one year
ZS Dec 2023
When dawn descends into dusk
I am caught in moonlight clutches
claws digging deep into ever
so suggestible flesh —
like the werewolves I see
while sitting on my porch
basking in the days
last puffs of smoke.

I similarly am going up in
plumes of carcinogenic
madness, brain ravaged with
thoughts of aliens
coming to steal me away —
thieves in the night.

Such is this twisted tango danced,
with the familiarity of lovers
interwoven in my brain —
tarnished neurons,
friendly fire dopamine,
spilling over into visions —
but not the kinds of sugar plums.
no, this fruit is rotten;
bearing gnashing teeth,
breathing fire.

But this phoenix will rise from ash
from the remains of deluded thought
of broken tongue words
misplaced and slithering
figures in peripheral vision
with their monochromatic hue
I will be rainbow reborn,
the full spectrum anew, because
every storm will pass —
and I
will not
be beaten.
ZS Jan 2023
I feel your departure
in thoughts of alien abductions
stolen away in the night
leaving nothing but
the lingering puffs of smoke
from my last cigarette

in slinking shadows —
white ghostly figures
just out of reach
like the days last rays of sunshine
as the sun goes down
my sanity bleeds.

each month, we dance this haunted tango
just me and my 3000 dollar tourniquet
against the world
enough money in my deltoid to pay the rent

today, I’ll be too tired to leave my bed
but in a few weeks
I won’t be able to sleep till
golden rays
filter in through window blinds
finding my solace in sunbeams

when you fade away, my demons take hold
the complicated part of dancing with demons
is sometimes you get burnt
third degree pains holding my brains
in a chokehold
when all I’ve ever wanted
is to breathe

(in, out)
ZS Jan 2023
age 6
you said “this is what friends do”
and placed a kiss on my lips

tell me how a kiss on the lips
became hands in pants
became “you can’t tell anyone”
when you saw my nervous excited scrawls about what we did in my diary

age 6
shame?
but I thought this is what friends did
I know now I’ll never tell my mother

age 7
you said you’d catch me a salamander
“okay”
I slip away a little more each time

age 8? 9?
these years are a blur
I know your brother touched me too

still never got that salamander

age 10
your fingers still ghost my skin
year to year

“i won’t bully you anymore if you be my girlfriend”
enough is enough
i slam my full body weight on those ugly hands

age 12
“I know what you did”
says your friend
I haven’t seen you in two years
yet you still come up to haunt me

age 14
“hey, you still live down the street? We should date”
how do you not realize what you’ve done

age 22
“Was he hot?” an old friend asks, probably on drugs
I show him your picture, shaking

later on I break an 8 year silence to ask you why.
“it didn’t happen again after that”
“it had a lot to do with age”
why can’t you just say sorry.

age 24
I still think about the things we did
you did
friends don’t kiss
friends don’t put their hands in each others pants
And I’ll still never tell my mother
this one is about some of my childhood trauma. TW: Child on child ****** abuse, molestation, traumatic events,
ZS Aug 2016
peeking through
slowly, carefully
through the cracks
in my brain
the cracks
of reality

how would it feel
being present in
my mind and my body
feeling real, feeling safe
my brain is vicious,
seeping poison running
through black tinted veins

i am Alice
falling down the hole
again
ZS Dec 2023
Mother Gaia is crying

Her tears kiss my skin as I
pollute my lungs on the porch
in a T shirt
She should be twirling
this time of year

all white-flake
wonder-eyes
fierce, cold
unapologetic skies

but we’ve been polluting Her lungs
for years
and so She cries —
warm, December rain
while I smoke
on my porch  

in a t shirt

— The End —