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Sep 2016 · 843
anatomy v.2
reflectionzero Sep 2016
there is a place in my heart
where the engine runs and the starter stops
and the oil sputters black enough to avoid the cops

there's a place in my mind
where the memories wade
in the pool of the time that I would have strayed

where liquor pours and memories fade
there's a place in my **** where I would have stayed

There's a place in my toes where the empathy grows
and the root ruthlessly anchors me and slows

There's a place in my hands where I hold a knife
where I cut things out of me that **** my life.

I know of a part of me the doesn't show
It's the part of me that men like you will never know.
Apr 2016 · 473
reflectionzero Apr 2016
I've never been addicted to anything but the thrill of living.
Well I guess there's cigarettes, but does that really count?

I think about the drugs.
They're documented, here in my journal.

I feel awful as I read this memoir, "Beautiful Boy"
His father really wants him to ******* stop.

The methadone.
"That's some Heavy ****, _. What were you thinking?"
I was thinking about the high of doing something /wrong/

I walk to temptation, light a match and walk away.
Never involved, just toying with the idea.

I've had a couple glasses of wine, not high...
writing about the darkness makes we want another glass.
Is the act of expressing these emotions playing with fire?
Better pour myself another glass.

The downtrodden, the broken, the fall from grace.
I'm just fascinated.

A damaged person is more whole to me than the impeccable.

I am impulsive, unafraid of mistakes, romantic.
I treat my life and my body like a canvas.
I do not lump things into categories of black and white.
I open up to strangers and see beauty in the obscure.
I wear my heart on my sleeve.
I am no stranger to controversy.

// vacuous behavior in our world, and beneath it I believe there are people who are boiling to get out.//

People have been conditioned into eating, sleeping, *******, and buying their problems away.

I shouldn't be conditioned to feel weak about this vulnerability.
"To be fully standing in the light, one must cast a shadow"

BECAUSE it's in grappling with these dark moments, sharing & owning them/
that we are most liberated/

I accept and embrace this uncertainty
Jan 2016 · 4.9k
your world will spin
reflectionzero Jan 2016
word travels & *** sells
             /stomping gravel lest I dwell/
fires burn & hearts ache
           /a dream yearned and willed awake/
a ponds ripple & a banshees scream
           /it looked simple, reality is obscene/
flesh twists & seasons change
          /a list of reasons to rearrange/    

flowers wilt & the sun sets
         /baby lullabies and cold sweats/
wood knocks & doors close
        /deadbolts lock and war grows/
secrets whisper & snow falls
        /dark drifters and phone calls/
chapters start & stories end
        /laughter, death and grow again/
just ******* around with the beat of writing, nothing serious.
Nov 2015 · 399
the beat
reflectionzero Nov 2015
when the drums pound
my heart beats
and these words leak like the ink
from pens that have dried
to the words that have died in youth
but echo faintly to my future.

Aug 2015 · 2.3k
reflectionzero Aug 2015
The truth is that I never shook my shadow
Every day, it's trying to trick me into doing battle
Calling out 'faker', only get me rattled
Wanna pull me back behind the fence with the cattle

Building your lenses, digging your trenches
Put me on the front line, leave me with a dumb mind
With no defenses but your defense is
If you can't stand to feel the pain then you are senseless

Since this, I've grown up some different kind of fighter
And when the darkness comes, let it inside you
And your darkness is shining, my darkness is shining
Have faith in myself

I've seen a million numbered doors on the horizon
Now which is the future you're choosing before you go dying?
I'll tell you about a secret I've been undermining
Every little lie in this world comes from dividing

Say you're my lover, say you're my own, homie
Tilt my chin back, slit my throat
Take a bath in my blood, get to know me
All out of my secrets, all my enemies are turning into my teachers

Because light's blinding, no way dividing
What's yours or mine when everything's shining?
You darkness is shining, my darkness is shining
Have faith in ourselves

Yes, I'm only loving, only trying to only love
And, yes, and what I'm trying to do is only loving
Yes, I'm only loving, trying to only love
I swear to God, I'm only trying to be loving

Yes, I'm only lonely loving
Yes, I'm only feeling only loving, only loving
You say it ain't loving, ain't loving
Ain't loving, my loving

But I'm only loving, still only loving
Swear to god, I'm only loving
Trying to be loving, loving
Loving, loving, loving, loving

Yes I'm only loving, yes, trying to only love
I swear to god, I'm trying but I'm only loving
You say it ain't loving, ain't loving, ain't loving
Ain't loving, ain't loving my loving
But I'm only loving, loving, loving, loving the truth


Aug 2015 · 582
reflectionzero Aug 2015
these lush cheeks speak
eyelash you fast
I hope you see past the technique.

pretty boy
Aug 2015 · 300
Day 2
reflectionzero Aug 2015
Roses are red, ***** are blue
Take back what I said
I'll just *******.
Aug 2015 · 810
day 1
reflectionzero Aug 2015
flood my brain with that drug
that fools me I'm in love
reflectionzero Jul 2015
When I was nine a boy told me I looked like a ******* the playground. I cried and beat him until my knuckles turned white. At the time, anything like a girl was deserving of two things: disrespect and objectification. I write in the past-tense in the hope that this mentality is on its way out with corsets and Truck Nutz® .

The legalization of same-*** marriage has made it so that I'm given a [somewhat] equal level of rights to that of a heterosexual, and it created an air of safety on the streets in which saying things like “******” might now be on par with the word “******”. People might start to feel more socially obliged to say sorry to me for saying it-- but not because they actually are.

For that I'm grateful, but the integration of the homosexual identity in the media is being largely focused through the male lens, and that's a problem.

The 'coming out' sports stars and picket-fence gays in shows like Modern Family completely overshadow women-- in the same way that all aspects of our society do.

I still hear that insecure nine-year-old echoing in the byzantine recesses of my twenty-something brain, “you look like a girl” and I cringe. For society to make sense of my sexuality as a male attracted to other men, I was feminized and subsequently devalued. “If you like men, you must be like a girl” and conversely the same would be applied to a lesbian, “If you like women, you must be like a boy (but probably confused and you'll change your mind, because you're a woman)”.

The problem was, that at some point, I was expected to join the cheerleading squad or football team and play with Barbies or Army figurines. I was born into a gender straight-jacket that aimed to suffocate my expression as a male into singular shade of blue, and I'm rather fond of pink.

But everyone knows that pink is the weaker and more pathetic color.

The expectations of a woman to be barefoot preparing dinner for her drunk and abusive husband has been alleviated, but there is still a monster of an elephant lurking in the kitchen.

For a movement which parades a diverse banner of colors and proclaims acceptance, therein lies the patriarchal monster rearing its head once more. For example-- Grindr, the gay male social networking app that has been all the craze. Amidst the headless torsos looking for partnership among strangers (NSA ***), the unifying demand (literally almost every profile) is masculinity.

A demand that our partners appear more physically masculine as to avoid further social isolation.  A request which directly results from the hurt of being feminized as gay men; it's a request that represents the patriarchal society which ostracized us in the first place for “being like a girl” (and I cringe once more).

Flashback to some age between nine and twenty asking myself, “What's wrong with being a girl?” Well, I suppose we could go the biological route and say that they are in fact smaller and less capable of lifting heavy things. Then we could also look at college graduation rates of females over males and scale the weight of each genders brain and figure out which is superior. (Did you know women exceed males in college education?) They do, and since they're aren't many sabertooth tigers to club over the head anymore-- men should probably pick up the pace.

Then I realized-- there is absolutely nothing wrong with being a girl, feminine or gay. There's something wrong with being a man.
not a poem
May 2015 · 1.4k
"Trouble (Stripped)"
reflectionzero May 2015
Would you Bleed for Me?
Lick it off my lips like you needed me?
Sit me on the couch with your fingers in my mouth,
you look so cool while you're reading me.

Let's cause a little trouble.
Oh, you make me feel so weak.
I bet you kiss your knuckles.
Right before they touch my cheek.

But I've got my mind, made up this time.
Cause there's a menace in my bed.
Can you see his silhouette?

And I've got my mind, made up this time.
Go on and light a cigarette, set a fire in my head.
Set a fire in my head, tonight.

Would you lie for me?
Cross your sorry heart and hope to die for me?
Would you pin me to a wall?
Would you beg or would you crawl?
Stick a needle in your hungry eyes for me?

Don't forget me, don't forget me.
I wouldn't leave you if you'd let me.
Hmm, when you met me when you met me.
You told me you were gonna get me.

Dec 2014 · 841
reflection zero
reflectionzero Dec 2014
I weep for Narcissus,
but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful.
I weep because,
each time he knelt beside my banks,
I could see,
in the depths of his eyes,
my own beauty

Dec 2014 · 707
I Think
reflectionzero Dec 2014
I think about meditation, positivity,
and breathing my worries away.

I think of opening the blinds
to see a monk on fire  
so I pick up a pen and write instead.

I think about the birds out my window
and feel the earth shake as they
fly for higher ground.

I think of students picking
one path to fly and die on
Then I think about the value of money
and what it's really worth

I think about comfort and security
then I think of a prison made of meridian sofas
and melted credit cards.

I think about getting wasted.

I think of social networking
dissociative isolation
and aging narcissism.

I think about the homeless man
and his house made of boxes
outside of NPR's building
"This American Life."

I think of turning up the noise
and smoking an 8th of ****.

I think about the magnitude of our universe.
  I think about *** and image.
I think about power and guns.
I think about how blind we’ve
allowed ourselves to be.

then I think of how I can condense these thoughts
into a single sentence so it holds

I think about it
I do

That you should start to think too
Nov 2014 · 408
reflectionzero Nov 2014
"You've gone quite
mangy, cat. But
your grins a comfort."

"And you've picked up
a bit up an attitude.
Still curious
and willing to learn
I hope."

Nov 2014 · 476
modern lovers (10W)
reflectionzero Nov 2014
star light star bright
let's **** in
my car tonight.

Nov 2014 · 671
reflectionzero Nov 2014
roads fork and
twist at your feet
gyrating snakes inject
the threat of the future
into your veins.

stars collapse and
you wander to the edge
small punch drunk

busted clocks
leak insects
onto the face of the world
and your mind is a dollar sign

tick tock
tick tock

take my hand
lets leave this
neurotic neverland
follow the shallow skipped stone

we're off to see the blunder
the wonderful
fury and cause

if only you had a heart
if only you had a heart

Oct 2014 · 451
be yourself
reflectionzero Oct 2014
They are
covered in ink and they speak their minds.

they are divergent, and by their own nature--

They are those who pay close attention to the world,
who have become outraged.

They are not
ones that adhere to societal norms
and regulations.
They are men and women of action
without much regard to consequence.

They carry a responsibility much heavier than debt,
a child,
or a mortgage--

They dare to question the answers.

they do this because there are solutions
beyond what meets the eye.

they do this because there are exceptions
to what they believe to be true.

they do this because they see
a reality beyond.

they see the better half of what we could be.
Bringing out the strengths of our individual potentials
and combining them to create new worlds.  

Coming together to learn from our mistakes
and record the outcomes.
Transcending the societal moral code
to observe a higher order
of people's desires and needs.

Thanking the Earth for the life
we have systematically ****** out of it,
finding alternative means of survival.

The world we live in,
They are militantly working toward changing it.
Oct 2014 · 698
domestic dispute
reflectionzero Oct 2014
He sat at the dinner table looking up to the ceiling.

The sound of gunfire echoed down the stairs and reverberated through his massive house. A heavy body hit the floor in the room above. Dust rained from the ceiling and the chandelier swayed back and forth; the flames helplessly holding onto the wick as the chain rotated around the room. The calm, evenly-paced sound of high-heels approach him from behind. A woman helps herself to the seat on his right and sits motionlessly at the table.  

Silence falls over the dining hall as the slow sway of the chandelier eases to a halt, all of the candles still lit-- except for one. The woman brings a wine glass to her lips and tilts her head back, washing down what's left.
He looks on silently as he finishes his meal.
Sep 2014 · 650
on foundations...
reflectionzero Sep 2014
I talked to a friend today for the first time since I've been back from Arizona. It was interesting. I tried to start off cool, calm, collected... all of those things you should be in public and with strangers-- but only in private among friends. Eventually he started asking the hard questions, as I knew he would. It's a simple formality that defuses so much stress for me. Listening to someone's problems is like making eye-contact with a homeless person. You still want to treat them like a human being, but you'll end up regretting it later.  

So he asked me how the relationship stands with my dad since summer. “Has it improved? Did you two talk?” “No, no.” I say. No, it hasn't improved at all. My father still feeds of his perpetual guilt as a muse and mentor in every sale he makes and AA meeting he attends. If you cut him open you'd find an empty bottle of Jameson. “That's alright,” I tell him. I don't chase him down anymore to have a heart to heart about the past, or his feelings, or his mistakes-- no, we're adults now. We use each other as a means to an end. This is the way males bond. Instead of getting angry at him when he's a ****, I just ignore his phone calls for five days until he's saturated in his guilt long enough to actually be proactive. When I call him back It's expected he'll send me money, even if it's unwarranted. It's so easy. I don't have to fight with him, and he gets to avoid looking at the loser in the mirror. Nobodies emotional needs are being met-- but, hey! At least we can spend the 100$ drinking long island ice tea at the layovers on the way back to my life away from hell. Thanks dad, really.  

“And how is your sister?” he asks. “Oh, she's loosing her mind,” I say. She asks me why I don't try harder for the family. She blames me for leaving and emotionally severing myself. “It's like you don't give a **** about anything but yourself,” she says. Well she really hit the nail on the head. I, apparently, am the patron saint of reassembling ravaged family units beyond repair and squaring the circle. I am fully aware of how angry she is that she can't do the same emotional distancing for herself. She wants so badly to grow out of that child that's still locked inside of herself begging for a functioning home. So there she is, Atlas, holding the weight of the world and I'm the one that put it on her shoulders. No one can advise her because we're all to blame, are her victimhood is a virulent strain infecting everyone but me.  

“And hows your mom?” he asks. “Oh, well she's just a silly goose, you know?” “Sillier than ever,” I say. Making her rounds to the ER quicker than she rebounded from deciding to leave her boyfriend and live off my sister in Seattle. “At least this time it's from the aftershocks of her attempted suicide and not the actual act of doing it, you know?” But there still runs the potentiality of getting that phone call-- “Hey, your mom's got a tube running into her heart.” It's a fun game of Russian Roulette we like to play in our family-- nobodies winning.  But she made the time to come to Flagstaff and spend some quality time with me for my birthday. Forked over a little bit of Xanex for me and my girlfriend, bought us *****, drank with us. “You know, what are moms for?” I say.  

I tell him, "My life is like a Modern Family episode directed by Quentin Tarantino."

It just makes a person a little rough around the edges, you know? And with insight comes a bit of cynicism. Like, yeah. I dissected and tore you apart yesterday-- but it's only because I love you. Your imperfections really make you shine. It's that feeling you get when you try to jam the wrong shape through one of those Fisher-Price toys-- it doesn't fit but you force it anyway.

But you're alright, you'll muddle through.
Sep 2014 · 389
reflectionzero Sep 2014
I've come to realize in this massively dissociative city  that I'm lonely and unhappy. Much in the same way magazine covers don't seem to reflect the image I'd really like to see in myself. I'm chasing the tail of a dream that died long before I had the time to develop an admiration for pets. I would like to take care of something, and in turn, something to take care of me. But I have created a life bent on self-efficiency and cold realism-- a life without dependency. I don't know whether this is due to nature, nurture, or belief… but it is my blunt and isolated reality. What am I doing? Who am I proving life to? I came out here to experience a dream beyond my imagination, but all I found was ****. The same **** I find everywhere else. The only constant is people like you. Those who understand and care for my well-being. My family and friends. I want so badly to feel at home again-- to be close to another person. Until then I am stringing myself up by my shoelaces and finding work where I can. Because the world I've found is one bent on financial security over passion, and the only passion I've felt is for those who care enough to see. But people here are blind to me.
Sep 2014 · 396
10W (bring it)
reflectionzero Sep 2014
I'm not
the substitute
for the smoke
you've been inhaling.

Sep 2014 · 341
reflectionzero Sep 2014
I come home and look at my room
like I would the stranger that I ******
and didn't leave a phone number to.

I see the blank walls and smell
the sent of stale paint and think
of a life more privileged.

I can't help it.
I live in a box.

I see the world of money
and fame,
I live it.

I stay up and bite my nails
to dust
like it's achievable.

It's ******* not,
and I don't want it.

But I do.
Sep 2014 · 421
reflectionzero Sep 2014
A large part of me
wants to run off into the hills
and become a Buddhist monk.

Focus all of my energy and attention onto any fitting god
and get high off breathing exorcizes.
Maybe then all the lights and sound
from this derailed society of aging selfies
and narcissism
would stop screeching in my ear.

Then the other part of me feels obligated to integrate myself
and change it somehow.
Like it's my duty to confront
the entire dissociative body
of social-networking and media.

These are the conflicting ideas
which sixty-nine in my head all night
until it becomes an ouroboros-****
debate on how
to keep breathing.

I heard a guy tell me today at the bar that if he could live forever, he would. I have trouble with this concept given that every critical aspect of life seems fundamentally damaged to me. I'm not suicidal, I'm just having trouble seeing what this obnoxious ***** at the bar is seeing. Maybe I should order another beer? It's people like you that make me want to write.

Sep 2014 · 553
I know...
reflectionzero Sep 2014
I know
that you got into a relationship
with a guy who only married you
for your money
and your huge ****.

I know
that you're branching out of the dead gardens
of your relationship
to sew seeds in my field,
and they keep dying.

I know
that you know how I feel about about it all
and you know that I think you're a great guy.
I am not the liver transplant
for this liqueur-derailed
dance you're doing.

We're all sorry.

Your victimhood
is a virulent strain
infecting everyone

Sep 2014 · 438
reflectionzero Sep 2014
volumes fly as pages
catch wind novel
images and shapes
form in speechless
colored language
my dreams
Sep 2014 · 1.1k
reflectionzero Sep 2014
I need a statue that bleeds
and a diamond that cracks
a fluid solid
wants without needs
to be generally exact

I need you to stay
while you watch me leave
I need you to say
what I wouldn't believe

what I want is a contradiction
a fairy-tale non-fiction
rhythm, rhyme, diction
freezing from friction
a tamed addiction

Jun 2014 · 1.0k
reflectionzero Jun 2014
love isn't a transaction.
Jun 2014 · 1.7k
On Networking...
reflectionzero Jun 2014
I rarely get on Facebook anymore. But when I do, I'll change my profile picture or banner-- maybe post a witty status update, maybe not witty, just something to let people know I'm alive.

It's like repositioning the arms on a stationary mannequin to depict a different scene. Except lately I just don't care anymore. It's just that-- a mannequin. An object, an image, a lifeless entity with which I used to feel real-- a dusty mirror.

I see that the line between the idea of a person and the reality is being blurred and crossing over into something all-together different. It's as if people are starting to wake up and realize the objectivity of their reality. But that brings into question the basis for which we define reality.

We have become a, “Look but don't touch” society in which we click a button to show our appreciation as opposed to genuinely reciprocating human emotion and energy. It is extremely isolating and dangerous.

Packed subways and sidewalks have fallen eerily silent with faces illuminated by their cellphones. Most everyone wants to be heard, appreciated and recognized and social media has provided an outlet for that.

But there comes a point at which your platform becomes your prison and your voice your warden-- and everything you say is modified to be pleasing to the ear and 'likeable'.

But I like dislikes. And if you're not ******* anyone off-- you're probably not doing anything important, and if you're not outraged you're not paying attention.
Jun 2014 · 536
reflectionzero Jun 2014
Busy little bee, you've got yourself some honey
You trap yourself in sweet desire
Sticky situation you've got yourself in.
Flower to flower, hour to hour
Bumbling about your days.
Stacking that sugar to the ceiling
Drone yourself a home.
Stuck in a husk, an empty hive.
A queen throned

You busy, busy little bee.

Jun 2014 · 795
reflectionzero Jun 2014
Black roots are digging into the story.
The cover is mold and its pages are dirt.
It's growing into quite the beautiful lie.
Its branches are strong and cold, the trunk is hollow.
We gather around it and cry-- but nobody really cares.

Its blind limbs desperately reach toward nothing,
twisting itself into painful knots.
Ears to its base and knuckles to its bark,
Tap. Tap. Tap. -- Hollow.
Very hollow.

The type of hollow that comes
from years of being dead.
Alone amidst the cracked mud and brush.
We decided not to cut it down,
for there are fates
worse than death.

May 2014 · 716
ignorant innocent
reflectionzero May 2014
neon flight I'm flying
feeling colors fingers
float through cotton
candy mist

stomach flutter eye
shutter carnival spinning
joy light glimmer
hazel summer sun

set in the west
I rise writhed
eyes met with
the dawn

rest lashes
back asleep
past so shallow
future so deep

breath held
count to ten
fantasy quelled
drown in sin

May 2014 · 2.3k
aggressive depressive
reflectionzero May 2014
cold veins
beat red fists
through cracked walls
of hearts home

fingers caress and
shudder my skin
he whispers nails
on chalkboard

don't touch me.

bottles bottom
coin tosses in
your stomach

she bore
my vegetative
eyes once

don't call me.

aggressive he
she depressive
bi polarize me
the perfect gender.

May 2014 · 836
sick bitch
reflectionzero May 2014
I will tear you apart
break your arms
crush your skull
in-between my thoughts

you're no *******
match to my gasoline.

I am violent.
I am cruel.
I am evil.
I am black

you don't know me.
You never will
You never did.

Steadfast in your experience
aged fossil
I am forged of fires
beyond that
of hells.

cutie patootie
fossil fuel.

Bloom into that miserable flower
you're bent on becoming.
May 2014 · 609
societal medias
reflectionzero May 2014
s (o) c (i) e (t) a (l) |  m (e) (d) i (a) (s)
    |     |      |     |            |    |     |   |
o i t l e d a s
i s a o t e l d
i s o l t a e d

.i s o l a t e d.
| |||| || |

May 2014 · 826
My heart
reflectionzero May 2014
my heart is
an open field
of jagged rocks
and pits covered
in dry grass.

my heart is
a dense forest
to the south
and a river bank
to the east

my heart is
a landscape
alive with feral
animals and
gentle beasts.

my heart
pumps like a
purple sunset
in a hellish
Phoenix sky.

May 2014 · 2.2k
reflectionzero May 2014
I am so afriad
of becoming
May 2014 · 842
hello world
reflectionzero May 2014
Hello World,

If you could ******* isolation
you would ***** fifty shades
of I wish I were as easily pleased
as you.

If I could be happy with simplicity
and the birds and the bees
and the SNL and cable
and the drone, drone, drone.

commercial break
I have no channels left
all flowing into the image
of the ******* I hold
to the past.

you will know me
as the disaster
who tried.

I will throne above
the artificial sunshine
coming through
the window of your
domestic screens.  

May 2014 · 711
party monster
reflectionzero May 2014
wake up and starve
my poison is stronger
I trip into ash
and fancy the city.

Rock and Hole

moons fade to
rub my starstruck
eyes in the sun
and I am still

an empty palm
scratched on street signs.
May 2014 · 670
enter password
reflectionzero May 2014
flickering screen
graveyards burn
into our eyes

upload your humanity
data exchange
our energy

age of knowledge
I never knew you
or myself.

gathered around
trash lit on fire
we burn
for no one.

May 2014 · 528
know me
reflectionzero May 2014
breaking ice
Stutter twice
roll the dice.

You saw me
I saw you
I want you to know
What I want you to

*** drugs
Rock and dull
Tell me something
Make a goal

Get your points
Impress me great
Fruit of *****
My face you rate

Break the ice
See my soul
Stutter twice
Burn like coal.

May 2014 · 528
reflectionzero May 2014
Trite, True
Blooming, *******, Grooming,
Time, Swelling, Torn, Selling
Black, Out
May 2014 · 647
reflectionzero May 2014
that truth injected a liquid coal that was
to pulse my veins forever.
pulled back the blinds
and shrouded me in darkness.
extinguished the flames
and charred the place
where I housed our dreams.

Cracking the concrete that lead to our door.

devoured the life
surrounding the perimeter.

engulfed me in a blackness
I won't soon forget.

misled by my own disillusions of who I wanted you to be.
the pages of this fairy tale are blank,
and would better make for kindling.

Rather start new,
or keep warm for that matter,
I chose to walk toward the lake alone.

feet bound by lies
I toss this to the cliffs,
broken with the others at the bottom.

misled by my own disillusion
of who I wanted you to be.

I weakened myself at the knees
and fell to my own imagination.

Dragons and princess,
I sword-struck myself silly.

these scars are not my own.
star-gaze reminiscence
we ALL fall down.

my faith is absent.

I lay the ghost of you down to sleep.
Kiss your forehead and destroy
the reflection of myself
I never wish to see again.
Shrouded, blank, Shrouded, blank.

Feet  bound  by  lies
you hung bleeding water
into a rapidly growing puddle.

I watch the sun set in our
tear stained canvas sky.

Apr 2014 · 832
reflectionzero Apr 2014
He held the key to what he wanted to see
destructive or creative was all he wanted to be
black and white infinitely greater then gray
iridescence had no place in a colorless day
The sky may remain blue
for you
but for him
a vein of red bled through
heaven rains blood for those excluded
but somehow his prayers intruded
arrays of life blinked back in existence
and his tragedies evaporated without resistance
now he sits reminiscing on the past
staring at a monolithic sea
of Christian trash.

Apr 2014 · 517
The Past
reflectionzero Apr 2014
{Some old writing from when I was younger. A piece about the past.}

Smoke bellows outward
in a plume from parted lips
and rolls off my arms in a loving caress.

As I lower my hand from my mouth
and gaze at the stars
I am brought into a catalyzing train of thought.

As the domino's of the past
experiences collapse in my mind
I reach a dusty black box
i put away long ago
in the innermost regions of my brain.

Upon looking at the box
I see in gold letters, "do not open"
On the surface. I inhale once more
a drag most satisfying.

I exhale and gaze at the black box.

As I stare at the stars I am happy in this moment.
All tragedy's and shortcomings,
problems and obstructions
in my path seem to breath themselves calmly out of existence,
as I once did.

I am happy in this moment.

The horizon does not end
for those crafted of the infinite,
and the sun never sets in a perpetuating sky.

I create myself instead of searching.
For reality is not repeating itself,
rather it's extending toward nothing
and everything at once.

It is one and all.

It is black and white
and it follows no pattern or circumference. 

I inhale once more.
grind the embers of my cigarette into the surface of the box,
and exhale.

Dwelling not on anything
but the short life I have left to live
with each breath.

I watch the embers die out,

and leave.
Apr 2014 · 728
reflectionzero Apr 2014
Here is the line I draw in the sand.
Here are the words you spoke to me.
Here is the complete detachment of care and empathy you've shown. Here is documentation that I'm going to be alright.
is the place for you in my heart.

Why do you focus on the worst in us?

These are my lips still untouched
by how much I thought you loved me.
This was the motivation I used to show you my world.
These are the walls that saw everything, here and there.
These are your letters collecting dust.
This is me staring at the place where you were supposed to be still standing.

How could you let me go?

Here is my realization.
There is your pride.
Here is the phone that won't be ringing.
Here is your realization.
There is a year gone.
Here is one of those other fish in the sea.
This is how quick I can rip that band-aid off.

Where are you running to?

This is the image of me.
The lack of my being in your life.
There- is the fading reminder of who I used to be.
This is how strongly I loved and believed you.
The only (  ) who did what ( ) did. There-- (  ) was.

This is the love that still stands.
The love that forgives and never forgets a second.
The place in our hearts that can't be filled by anyone else.
The love that knows no limit.

Here is the clock ticking, recording it all.

Here is how quickly I can rip that clock off the wall.

Apr 2014 · 499
your damage is showing
reflectionzero Apr 2014
He had punched a mirror.
We found him on the floor,
sifting through the shards of his
broken reflection
to find the piece that nobody liked.

He cut his hand in the process
and we asked him to stop bleeding.
He  had  always  been  difficult.

We wrapped him in gauze,
cut a hole out for his lips,
and told him to smile.
Apr 2014 · 907
thanks for following
reflectionzero Apr 2014
[I appreciate all of the people who have recently taken an interest in my writing since my poem was featured on the front page!]

"It is not the critic who counts;
not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles,
or where the doer of deeds could have done better.

The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena,
whose face is marred
by dust and sweat and blood;
who strives valiantly;
who errs,
who comes short again and again,
because there is no effort without error and shortcoming;
but who does actually strive to do the deeds;

who knows great enthusiasms,
the great devotions;
who spends himself in a worthy cause;

who at best knows in the end
the triumph of high achievement,
and who at worst,
if he fails,
at least fails while daring greatly,

so that his place shall never be
with those cold and timid souls
who neither know victory or defeat."
Apr 2014 · 1.3k
reflectionzero Apr 2014
shivering moss
of deep green
I am a ghost
lost in a waltz

haunted moons
shroud me faint
open graves
my crumbling face

moist earth
and ice air
take rusted scissors
to this angels echo

Apr 2014 · 1.0k
profane beauty.
reflectionzero Apr 2014
i know you're bad...

but *******
******* your looks
my eyes are hooked
you should be booked
for aesthetic crime
so fine  


handcuff my mind
the cities grime
your street-light sublime
my ball and chain
beauty profane.


graffiti heart
in a shopping cart
you pick my pockets
street scam smart


knife to my soul
tag my wall
pretty on parole
let's brawl


I like it rough.
reflectionzero Apr 2014
the  future  is  coming*

I'm often reminded of this when
the other students in my class
ask me what my major is.

“Liberal Studies,” I say.

The follow up question is always the same cookie-cutter inquiry.

                        “So you want to be a teacher?”

                                                      “No, not really” I say.

                                        At this juncture the person who is blandly     asking the questions begins to express
genuine interest in what I might do next
in the “real-world,”
spiked with a fear of the unknown.

“So what do you want to do then?”

I've come to realize that this is the point where most of my passing conversations with peers are brought to an abrupt end.

“I don't know.” I say.

And there it is, out in the open, lying on the floor-- the ******* future. I search their eyes and find panic,
                                                    then doubt,
                                                                ­ followed by pity.

I have officially shared too much information.
Figures. Honesty  creeps  people  out.

We part ways with, “Oh, that's great” or “I'll see you around!” and march forward to that inevitable, tantalizing ***** that is the future.

I've found that when I express a modicum
of trust in the world,
                                            it is often met with an alarming dread
                                           and concern for my prolonged well-being.

I am without a plan, so naturally-- there's a problem.

That if I don't have my calendar
              marked up through to the second coming of Christ,
                    at some point all of my limbs may simultaneously fall off.
Or I may simply cease to exist
           and all the joys of life will slip through my fingers
                                                       as I descend into my faithless pit
                                                                ­   of poor-planning.

I'd like it if everyone could just breathe--
get your cell-phones and computers in class,
and live in this moment.

Because yesterday is today
                         and today is tomorrow,
                                      and there is no future more important than now.

Until then and philosophy aside,
I guess I'll keep careening on the edge of reality
with my thumb up my ***
because god forbid
you become anything
          like me.

                                                           ­   -r0
Apr 2014 · 1.2k
not to be a downer
reflectionzero Apr 2014
not to be a downer
but I'm not blinded by the light
I'm not side-stepping feelings
I'm not looking for a fight

and not to be uptight
but god still hasn't grabbed me
in the middle of these sleepless nights
shaking my restless head saying
"you're going to be alright"

and not to be a pain
because we're having a good time
But I've driven every lane
and I've crossed every line

and not to be a bore
because we still need friends
but I hate to be adored
for playing pretend

look here, I'm happy now
everything is cool
smeared on smile
sittin by the pool

selfie. like.
grin from tongue to tooth
everyone's contrite
when no one knows the truth

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