Floating (poem)

Floating through ash

amidst the sparkling snow.

A void opens up

all falls into it

until I float through darkness.

No solace.

No silence.

Only constant ringing.

Static and screaming.

Dancing to pretend there's music.

Time falls away

as life loses its gravity.

An hour and a week the same,

what is death

when life is oblivion?

Dreaming of silence,

of wintry woods welcoming

the wanderer who breathes,

who feels the cold on his skin,

instead of the numbness of the void.

There is no time

for reasonable escape,

only a thread left now:

pull myself back into the flame,

or float through the void forever.

-Zero

Searching for warmth (poem)

An unsettling familiarity:

when did Christmas become creepy?

Snow-covered grounds and colorful lights,

a cafe's warmth in the cold.

But instead of sanctuary,

it feels like a trap,

a place where time loops:

sit here and fall into the past.

Relive last year's isolation,

a season of family spent alone

watching a crow perch on a rusty cross

abandoned in an empty parking lot.

Clinging to a cup of tea

in a cold, dark apartment

because it's the only warmth I had,

otherwise I'd have frozen.

She hands me a cold mug of water

on the last night we'd share.

The cold is a promise,

and the warmth is a maybe.

-Zero

a plead from the devourer (poem)

Constantly devouring what I can,

all these notes and ideas,

this incessant hunger drives me on,

but to what end?

Theories about stories I don't know,

the same song over and over again,

looking for something in her face

or the voices filling the silence.

Where does it end?

What could grow from this?

You can eat plastic,

but you can't digest it.

If you know, tell me:

am I learning nonsense

or is this hunger helpful,

more than bored devouring?

-Zero