You asked me if I was okay.
Not really wanting to know the answer. It was more of a
prerequisite to getting me to your bed.
Watch out.
Caring can be a sign of weakness, a sweet spot to the whole **** building collapsing
Boy, can’t you see how weak you are?
You break bones like twigs, sitting awake at 2 a.m. drunk and alone pretending to enjoy yourself
When it takes all of your courage to face the darkness
And I am darkness, no wonder you could never face me sober
I have been here for far too long, looking for an end,
But all I keep coming up with is a map of this maze I can’t find my way out of. Instead, I find my way to you. Join me,
I will try and save you
But my lips never held enough alcohol for intoxication, never enough to get your next fix
Hurling crushed cans out windows, you created birds out of bubbles and hops
And other **** that made you look like the child that jumped out of the tree thinking he would fly and realizing he couldn’t, and
I wanted to make you fly
You found out and tied boulders around your ankles, willing me to try harder. And I did. Everyday. Until I got dizzy eventually and I will never be strong enough pathetic boy, nor you will ever be brave enough to handle a being like me
In the end the sweet spot gave and the whole **** bridge came down
I gave up on boulders and flying and began to swim
I sure had had enough practice breathing underwater
This time I left you to drown

-KZ

We were drunk off of each other for so long neither of us recognized that it was becoming a problem.. Until the day we quit cold-turkey. Sobriety is measured in twelve steps
1. Admitting that we could not control this compulsion. You were the finest whiskey to ever touch these lips. That burning mmm so good down my esophagus. I can still feel your embers glowing in the pit of my stomach. You admitted to this addiction and moved to the next step leagues ahead of me.
2. Believing in a power above to control this addiction. I was never one to believe in god, but you were never one to not believe in the best.
3. Turning our lives over to the hands of a greater power. Neither of us were very good at just letting things happen..
4. Serious inventory of our moral selves. Cutting back the vines, burning down the walls, opening sealed doors, I offered myself up to you. Secrets of ***** bruises arouse leaving you speechless. I never meant to make such a production of ifs, but you would never let me deeper than the first layer of slick rock.
5. Admit our wrongs. According to you, nothing you ever did was wrong. This is where I closed the gap. Admitting it was wrong to read your mind.
6. Willing and ready to let go of the errors of our ways from our lives. You had to teach me how to let go, after my father taught me people leave so you better hold on tight until your knuckles are white and veins full to bursting. Taking cues from the trees you let go any time your roots got cold.
7. Humbling ones self. I will always vouch for the under dog and humble myself to the size of a mouse. But you stand on mountains and claim to where skyscrapers on your feet.
8. Making amends with all those we have harmed. My list would fill the sky with names of the victims of my assaults, slowly dropping stars from the abyss to make room for my wrongdoings, each burning out in a shooting explosion of light as they forgive. There is only one name on your list and I am still waiting..
9. Direct amends without hurting another. Now we are all mixed up because the truth hurts
10. Constantly self inventory and admit to wrong doings. You separate yourself into so many pieces that I am surprised there is any self left.
11. Praying for the will to have power to carry out and continue ten previous steps.
12. Spiritual Awakening. You are still asleep, I left you behind after step 8 and I am still drowsy.

I yearn to give her my heart,
though there isn't a heart anymore,
just a hole, and open door,
a door to the darkest hell,
an entrance to a past of a man who has been shred apart.

Perhaps it is me.
I am very boring, after all.
Or maybe it's them.
I just want someone to talk to.
Someone who doesn't think it's a burden to talk to me.
Someone who will smile when they open my messages, who will talk to me for hours and hours and not get bored, someone who will listen attentively and get every word I'm saying.
I just want someone to talk to.
But, lately, it seems like that person could never exist.
Am I unlovable?
Am I not good enough?
Am I not what someone wants?
Perhaps it's because I always find people who are just as ****** up as I am.
I just want someone to talk to.
Could that someone be you?

I have trouble at high altitudes
and I can't run more than a few steps without tiring
I'm a dancer but I gasp for air after
every performance
and my mouth tastes of pennies
I will never climb Mt. Everest
or smoke a single cigarette
I will not live in Beijing or own a cat
or be a deep sea diver
the best thing
they will ever do for me
is whisper your name

freckles
that look like constellations
eyes
the color of a sea green ocean
bones
that sprout wildflowers between them
but a mind
that is torn apart
identical
to her heart
and she does not
cannot
will not
understand
that after the storm
she'll                  connect the stars
she'll                         see the crashing waves
she'll                                 feel the fields of flowers
and
she
will
be
whole