When is it time to move on? (poem)

Leave behind the past,

projects you've worked on for years,

dreams you've had since childhood.

Maybe they've run their course,

but how can you know?

What if letting it go ruins everything,

destroying all passion and ambition?

What if it's the only thing keeping you going?

A sense of self-imposed obligation

igniting the fiery furnace of creativity.

The future cannot exist without the past,

but living in the past negates the present.

It seems there are so many wrong ways

it's hard to identify the right ones.

-Zero

Into the Unknown (poem)

A whisper in the sleepless night,

a call to a future I can't paint,

an unknown that terrifies me.

This ringing in my ear tempts me beyond,

past all the certainties I hold,

into a place I don't even know exists.

The unknown is dark and nebulous,

before me a million paths split,

but only one calls out my name.

My legs tremble at the thought,

my voice quivering and weak:

why does it look so difficult?

One slip and I fall to darkness

following this voice into the uncharted,

is this a mistake I'll learn to regret?

But a power within me burns to go,

an old friend pulling me by the hand

into the shadows of the unknown.

-Zero

Nightly Melancholy (poem)

The night consumes the day

and the world quiets in its sleep,

leaving me isolated in this dim sanctuary

with a heavy melancholy painting the walls.

It comes without much reason,

thoughts of old forgotten loves surface

like zombies rise from a shallow grave:

dead and rotten yet rejuvenated.

But it's less like a zombie invasion

and more like a nightly dig:

when the night calls out to me,

I grab a shovel and go to the graveyard.

Why do I even bother to dig?

To look for inspiration I've already ruined,

to find answers I already have,

or does melancholy just feel poetic?

-Zero

old letters found (poem)

Old letters written in love

or in the anguished pain of heartbreak

I would hide them away

but I sent them to you -

written confessions of my soul

that you hold prisoner.

There are some I secret away

letters that I never sent

but can't bring myself to destroy -

even reading them is a trap.

Each a reminder of every time I tried,

every time we chose differently.

You found those old letters.

I wonder if you tossed them

or put them away for future reading.

-Zero

The Apartment (short story)

When I was 13, I had a best friend named Marin. She and I did everything together, from skipping class to trick or treating on Halloween. We had the same love for chaos and adventure, along with the old disregard for rules and authority that comes with being a teenager.

One late November day, she texted me in math class, “I know what we're doing tonight.”

“Homework?” I replied jokingly as my teacher worked through some problem with lots of exes.

“You know how they're building those apartments by my place? Let's explore them before they put in doors and windows.”

That was how it started. Looking back, it was almost beautifully simple, beautifully in character. It was so normal for us that we had no idea that everything was about to change (except for climate change, that was unaffected).

We got to the half-built apartments around 7:30 that night. Our curfew was officially at 9, but we were usually good to stay out until 9:30, so we had plenty of time. Marin had noticed that they had put up signs for cameras all over the place, so she grabbed a couple old black hoodies that had been used for our Halloween costumes one year when we were younger.

“These fit terribly,” I told her as I squeezed into mine. I looked over at her and saw her basically swimming in hers. “Maybe we should switch.”

“Just shut up and put the hood up,” she growled in response.

With our disguises on, we entered the middle apartment building through its missing front door. We pulled out our phones and turned on their flashlights to see. The walls were bare dry wall, not even painted, and the front entrance way was just a little room for people to get their mail in. In front of us, wooden stairs lead both up and down to the four floors above, or the underground garage.

Marin took me by the hand and lead me up the stairs to the first floor. On either side of the wall leading to the back staircase, two open doorways stood as if inviting us in to explore them. Excited, Marin dragged me into the first door on the left and we quickly found out that some of the construction hadn't been finished yet, as there was a hole in the floor of what would eventually become a living room that stretched from the top floor all the way down. In the middle of the hole was a rope thrown over a beam above.

“What do you think this is for?” I asked her, curious as she peered over the edge and I looked up at the top.

“Maybe they use it to get into lower floors almost like a firefighter,” she suggested just as a dangerous idea popped into her mind.

Sometimes I wonder what life would have been like if that thought had never occurred to her. I wonder if we would have gone up those three flights of stairs and peered down into the darkness. But we did, and as we stood there looking down together, I felt uneasy about it.

“There's a little pulley system thing here,” she observed, flashing her light on a beam above the hole where the rope is thrown over. “I bet we can slide down if we want. Or swing over!”

She handed me her phone before I could say anything. She backed up, then ran right at the hole.

“Marin!” I cried out in doubtful fear, but she flew through the air, grabbed the rope, and swung over to the other side with ease.

“Come on over, the rope's fine!” she encouraged me. I took a deep breath, put both of our phones in my pocket, and ran at the rope. I jumped and felt the ground disappear beneath my feet.

When I landed on the other side, I nearly let out a cry of excitement before remembering that we were in a construction site that we were not allowed to be in. “That was awesome,” I whispered instead.

“I know!” Marin whispered back. “Now I'm thinking of climbing down. That'd be so cool!”

She moved back to the edge as I took our phones back out of my pocket. I handed hers to her as she stood over the dark precipice. Standing there watching her lean over and contemplate her plan of action put this idea in my head, one that imagined her falling down into the darkness, never to be seen again. I still can't quite explain the feeling I got from that image. The feeling that filled me up. The feeling that almost made me into a completely different person.

I walked up behind her quietly, unable to speak. Then I pushed her. Her initial scream was the same as the time she fell off of her bed reading one night, but her flurry to catch herself was far more intense. She grabbed onto the rope, but it slid out from the beam, causing her to fall with it to the ground below. As she fell, I could hear her head hitting floor after floor, beating it in until she was left on the brink of life and consciousness, waiting for the end that no one could save her from.

And I... I felt nothing. I told the police that she fell on her own, and they believed me because what kind of person kills their best friend? It's been a long time since that day, and this is the first time anyone's heard the truth of what happened. Not like it matters, her parents died a long time ago. The truth doesn't serve anyone.

-Zero

Count your blessings (poem)

Count your blessings.

Now, if only you had some

trapped down here with me,

death would be a blessing.

To think you called me here.

Evil thoughts filled your mind

you wanted justice

you craved for their pain,

prayed for it, even.

God wouldn't answer,

but I did.

So here's the deal:

you can leave right now,

you just have to leave your heart here,

your tell-tale heart that betrays you.

It would look so nice on a shelf,

don't you think?

Take your time to decide,

I have all of eternity to wait.

But, of course,

you don't.

-Zero

adrift (poem)

I feel strange...

neither here nor there,

adrift between time's weaves,

both there and here,

the past and present merge.

Floating through a new and old world,

I am more present than before

yet in another time altogether.

I dream while awake

seeing two worlds combined:

a present I can feel

and a past I can't remember.

-Zero

The Mountain's Ghost (poem)

The mountain whispered your name,

or, at least, I thought it would:

your phantom drifting about its trees,

watching from its towering summit.

The place was cursed.

I could never find peace there,

you would always catch me,

or so I thought.

The mountain was quiet

and I found peace in its trees.

Your ghost was nowhere to be found,

not even in the shadows or the bottle.

-Zero

Sunday Blues (poem)

Every high brings dread:

the impending lows approach.

For every extraordinary day,

there are a hundred ordinary ones

living a routine I never wanted,

but needed to survive.

Poetry can dream and promise,

but what power does it have

to change the life of a fool

so in love with his dreams

he forgets how to live?

Not much, I bet.

Where is the magic in every day?

Trapped somewhere beneath my skin,

is this all my fault?

Is exuberance a choice,

or thrust upon the willing,

or a lie I tell myself?

-Zero

break's over (poem)

the whispering of leaves on a cool summer day

memories so buried the dirt is familiar

have i been here before

or was it a scene from a movie?

but i'm here now, in this fragment,

a child lost among adults

time to get back to work

break's over, young man

the moment shifts but remains

as buckthorns slice my skin

the child plays in the woods

impervious to responsibility.

-Zero

The Mountains' Clouds (poem)

The clouds drifted over the mountains,

hiding their rounded tips in fluffy white

overlooking forests bordered by the sea,

a vast infinite expanse beyond the horizon.

In a little town by the water,

people scramble to prepare weddings, –

and funerals –

as the clouds pass indifferently above.

Their unseen eyes witness vastness,

under which we are but specks,

grains of sand on a vibrant desert,

leaves on a forest canopy.

When the clouds finally descend

in a flurry of water droplets,

they fall when and where they must,

regardless of the needs of the leaves.

-Zero

Allure of the Past (poem)

The past is so alluring,

a perfected recreation of what's gone:

nevermind the sleepless nights

burdened with anxiety and sorrow,

remember only the nights with friends

and strolls along red brick buildings.

Wouldn't it be wonderful to go back?

Back before self-awareness

when madness was considered love,

back to days of constant heartbreak

and the worst grief I've ever known,

but at least I didn't have to work.

Searching for answers in dream logic,

divining the future from pendulums,

days when I wanted to fade away

and skip ahead to the peaceful future.

Always looking away from the present,

I love every time but now.

-Zero

Whispering Night (poem)

The night whispers to me

all the dark secrets the day inspires me to hide.

“Come closer, come closer,

find yourself in my opaque shadow.”

I want to run to it –

and away from it –

but exhaustion decides for me,

so the night goes ignored.

-Zero

Dance with me (poem)

Meet me on the dance floor,

show me how to bend space,

to flow through time like seconds

bouncing along to the music's beat.

I used to know the infinite,

an old friend I danced with,

blending into the melody,

overflowing from every little atom.

Dance with me,

remind me of life's exuberance,

take my heart in your hands,

and show it how to beat again.

The next step is unknown to us,

decided by a song we never chose,

but we've already taken it,

regardless of where this dance leads.

-Zero

The Ghost (poem)

A ghost haunts me,

knock, knock, knocking,

but no one's at the door.

Madness is my only solace.

How do you kill a ghost?

I've been trying for years,

praying and begging for release,

but freedom is a distant dream.

Every priest offers hopeless hopefulness,

faith that can only lead to ruin.

If this ghost is my fate,

how can my life go on?

-Zero

i've gotta get up early tomorrow again (poem)

A desperation to leave

is there not more in me?

aren't I worthy of more?

More than systematic boredom

and too many early mornings

just to make ends meet.

I want to move on,

to move out of this apathy

into a place of inspiration.

I try not to talk of work

because it's filled with empty actions:

nothing I do has any meaning.

It's all white noise,

empty tasks to occupy time

duties to satisfy anonymous others

like building a sandcastle kingdom

to please an absent parent

who might not even exist.

-Zero

Time Traveller's Love (poem)

I travelled through time and space

to the spot in the future

where we had fallen in love.

I dashed up to our apartment,

climbed up trees and posts,

just to get myself to you.

But when I finally got there,

eager to press my lips against yours,

you recoiled away from me.

You said I wasn't myself,

replaced by a desperate imposter,

a lover who couldn't name your birthday.

Defeated, I returned to my time,

long before our love flourished,

accepting that I had to wait.

I dreamed of bending time and space,

skipping ahead to the life I wanted,

but the person I was today

has no place in that future.

-Zero

Deceptive Reflections (poem)

The mirror holds no truth:

it reflects light back to us,

but we decide what we see.

An impulsive boy sees indecision,

fear and anxious hesitation

despite his usual reckless behaviour.

An insecure girl sees ugliness,

her thighs and waist too thick

for anyone worthy of love.

Trapped in our blind minds,

we torment and hate ourselves

for an image we chose to see.

Cruelty is mind's invention,

used to inflict pain on its enemies,

even if that includes you and I.

Reality cares not for our illusions:

a rash boy will continue being rash,

and an insecure girl will continue being loved.

-Zero

when we met (poem)

I'll admit, when this all started,

I wasn't ready for it.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm still not ready,

moments of doubt among the foggy days.

Heartbroken and desperate,

I met you right as sorrow turned to rage,

frustration at my own romanticism,

the seed for all of my failures.

Past loves still haunted me,

the weight of my guilt holding me to earth

as my romantic mind fluttered in impossible skies.

There shouldn't have been another.

But I never reject possibility,

too afraid to let love slip me by again,

so we ended up getting together,

my romantic mind chained to the ocean floor.

The unprecedented happened:

my ghosts grew faded in apathy

like a bright yellow dress

that'd been washed a thousand times.

In the strangeness of our minds,

we found a stable home

built on the delicate stones of trust

with the transparent walls of freedom.

I never worry I'm too weird with you,

my old strategic concealment has no use,

and though I cautiously protect my notebooks,

it's just because only I can read them properly.

When this all started,

I wasn't ready to love again,

but somehow we found a way

to make a love greater than any I've known.

-Zero

Whispers from the depths (poem)

Find it nestled away in the dark

beyond the secrets we're meant to keep,

a nebulous crevasse enveloping it,

a name with no language.

Its whispers slither up the walls

reaching beyond what we'd admit

into the suppressed silence of our minds,

offering truths mixed with lies.

Its temptation is chaos,

a home folding onto and into itself,

walls becoming floors, windows, doors,

a roof made of spheres and cubes.

Fearfully force it back into the depths

where space and time curl up

to it can be lost far from here:

order left intact despite its attempts.

-Zero