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1.0k · Dec 2018
spew
zane b Dec 2018
split my body in two forked seas
the god trapped in my skull told me about people like myself

aqua drips from my grin to the upstairs
but the water's all wine now

"will there ever be veneration for me?"
salvation is packed inside my cheek
with melting capsules beside it

the stigmata of razor blades clenched in my fists scab over
my scars snarl and sing back a chorus of hate

choking on the gold thread of words in the back of my throat
creates the finest form of stitching
not feeling too great.
988 · Dec 2018
vices
zane b Dec 2018
feet covered by thread
vulnerability barred
from my sleep hygiene
897 · Dec 2018
types of love
zane b Dec 2018
i. the handcuffs my parents lost the keys to 24 years ago. i pray for them to eventually wear away from the weather. i pray for the break. my fingertips are sore from the pressure. my knees are sore from the ground quaking below.

ii. the softness of light grey/white/ginger/dark grey up against my hand. there's a daughter cosmos in her mewl.

iii. the ***** gaze at god i make as smoke leaves my lips. shot glasses clink against my eroded teeth and i hold back bile deep down in the rut of my stomach. i am ugliness to my mother. salvation is written between these walls and i must punch it out for the answers, hit by hit.

iv. the 'baby, i care' from men older than me. this kind spins in circles. when i cry, i'm in downward dog. every. single. time. 
 
v. the warm sunshine that radiates against my skin in the form of his kisses. i lay pallid without him here. sleep feels like a chore in these empty sheets. they fit like a glove to our form. peach cheeks accompany giggles. i linger in the moments where he says 'i love you'.
this is the best kind.
714 · Dec 2018
tonight
zane b Dec 2018
under the moon
i am a werewolf begging for change
clawing at the human parts of me

              I AM NO LONGER HER / I AM NO LONGER HIM!
              I AM NO LONGER THE PERSON I WISHED TO BE!

gnawing identity with honed molars
i bite down, savor the taste
                                                           ­            yet
                                                             ­                  i,
spit out the chewed pieces into my palm.

I AM SICK OF THE MONOTONY I HAVE CREATED! I AM SICK OF THE DESTROYING BEHAVIOURS KNITTED IN MY NEURONS! I AM SICK OF THE CRYING-INTO-THE-TOILET-BOWL!

i drink to my health, i drink to my sanity /
                                                                ­           i drink to the changing
                                                            mill­stones that grind within me
zane b Dec 2018
the yearly act of dying and then resurrecting at dawn is no longer as holy
as it could have been the first time it happened
i, no longer have bones within this vessel of ache
and yet i am only tired when they ask if i am okay.
i am never tired even when i am exhausted there is a lub-dub within,
pounding the doors i have
built, to see if i was
capable of safety within these hazardous conditions.
prophetically,
i vision that as i step off the gallows stage
into a trust fall choreographed by a world
that promises to me he is better than this,
there will come
a slither of venom into the halls of this highschool and
the crowd will unhinge their chests and
let the cyanide bubble their veins and
cry out lyrics about how
who we are is who we are is who we are—
but i am only tired, i say.
graduation is terrifying
218 · Dec 2018
the world renewed this time
zane b Dec 2018
one bite out of one peach / one bite out of one boy that has kissed with nothing but bared teeth in his past / hoping / not to get too used to the flavour of a taste loved too much / his stomach held / nothing / a simple buzz of nothing / simple is not / the word to explain this situation / simple is not (the) word to explain / how these nights tell one boy / that he is so alone when / his stomach aches / there are no more peaches left due to his own gluttony and impulsivity in the kitchen / (world) / two bites out of two peaches / two bites out of the sticky / icky / sickly peaches / their coat of fuzz has been (renewed) / these peaches / fresh / one boy holds a boy / that has walked miles barefooted / across a border drawn with a black felt marker / a boy holds one boy / i-love-him-so-much-kind-of-**** / this time one boy lets his teeth retract for the sake of letting in / (this time) / their juices are mixed in with love / and then one boy can't remember what teeth felt like in the first place
210 · Sep 2019
hope feels weird
zane b Sep 2019
eyes strained wide with wonder tilted up at the new moss stripes appearing in the sky
the streetlamps have never looked as angelic as they do tonight.
as i walk to the metronomic beat of the song inside my headphones
heart's struggling with its size and beat of the flames blazing within
my head feels busy with a buzz of racing thoughts-
thoughts
thoughts
thoughts

but i am the holy one tonight.

aches and pains feel light as i step forth
there is no past there is no future there is only me
me: the one who purges the devil prodding the inside of my skull
through quick taps on a keyboard
typing out what cannot be spoken chugging back what cannot be spilled puffing in what cannot be let out
i am no longer the curse i swore i put upon my loved ones
hope leaves a rash on my forearm and the scratching proceeds

for i am the holy one
but, only for tonight.
126 · Jan 2020
lust/lost
zane b Jan 2020
tonight the streetlights whisper sweet baby,
then the street turns black.

the ghouls from yesterday dig their molars into the crown of my skull.
and they
bite
down.

i writhe with shame like cherry stems being twisted,
i always reassure myself i can be broken and pretty.
the sun is a latex circle,
it’s last one in my pocket.
i can only talk to boys when i want them to slit my neck.
or is that just what lust feels like?
124 · Jan 2020
yes i'm changing
zane b Jan 2020
i don’t grieve when my layers shed.
it’s all a part of my monthly rebirth.
i’m a split yolk,
milk teeth hanging on by a thread,
all the texts i wouldn’t send.
stability stings like tweezing splinters.
i don’t want my mother to recognize me.
eighteen has been screaming change since day one.
i can’t teach myself how to smoulder.
111 · Jan 2020
mirrored
zane b Jan 2020
i am every song you’ve ever liked
with ****** features warping into a screen with your favourite memories on it.
i play continuous layers of sound,
overlapping my words into a familiar chorus of your own likes.
i am only what is seen and heard,
hidden unless noticed.
my characteristics are chameleonic.

not an ounce of me is mine, but they call this body mine.
a psychiatrist once said to me,
“you steal their traits so you feel more easy to accept.”
it’s just because i’m just too easy to reject.
so i will reflect what is shone on me,
i will paint myself to be your preferred artwork
and step only to your rhythm.
isn’t that the way you want it?

— The End —