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zak Nov 2018
seeing is believing, i avoid mirrors just to avoid the ****** with bloodshot eyes - but even eyelids scrunched shut i still see myself


I can only hope that one day the ache will outhurt the fear of whatever’s after
zak Oct 2018
i hate seeing my reflection - it is a
stark reminder that i am here.
the call of the void is always fleeting - how easy would it be to step in front of a bus?
i struggle with coming to terms with this - even suicide is not an option, even dead i wouldn’t want the responsibilty of my own death on me.
zak Sep 2018
do you know this dream? tied
to a fence, barking. the mailman comes, afraid -
he confuses your overeager friendliness with ill feeling. do you
know this dream? the sun never goes away - your cratered imperfection never shows his face. do
you know this dream? on her sleeve worn, you wear away.
the wind never blows you straight - do you know
this dream?
zak Sep 2018
still i wait. will the Stars deign
To reply? skyward i plead my case
but my best has fallen just shy
i see them leave, one by one
even the clouds have left the Sea behind

Still I wait.
zak Jul 2018
I’ve seen myself in the mirror.
it’s one thing to acknowledge your existence,
and another to question your place in the universe.

I sleep with the television turned on.
While I scream, it drones.
I don’t think I’ve watched a minute of it in the last three years though, I’m glued to my phone.
We’re glued to our phones.

I don’t yell much anymore.
Lack of living has beat the life out of me.
I’d worry about what any of this means, but being chemically inbalanced means I’m prospectively challenged.
So I don’t worry about it.

Maybe tomorrow will be different.
zak Jul 2018
It is burning outside. I
argued with the stars too much
I think and now the
sun wants to melt me. And I
would let it, let it
thaw the tiredness from my
bones, let all of what I am
seep through the cracks
and dissipate like old ghosts
confronted by the sunrise
but instead
I am burning on the inside.
zak Apr 2018
So out of it - it’s a shame you had to learn to write their names down on skin, because paper was left for better things, for obituaries and weddings
way past using, we’ve regressed into abusive but you don’t believe me when i say
**** helps, sober i overthink the bigger picture, sober i don’t stop to smell the flowers
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