I thought I was a hopeless romantic – It turns out I was just an addict

Feeling feelings alcoholically, wasted
time on perpetrating men,
victimizing brain cells
to drug and hand
of batterer, filling
veins with silly
love songs from guitar, avoidant
wanting what I couldn’t have,
having what I shouldn’t want,
and always more of it.

The wine tastes sweet when you don’t know what you’re drinking
and even when you do…

Disease of extremes
filling my lungs and choking
me to death, I thrive
on self-destruction
and the voice that wants to kill me sounds
an awful
lot like my own.
I can’t get any better for I’ll never
tell another soul,
for surely that voice of malice, death, destruction
will become theirs and then
and then…

A self-fulfilling prophecy
of no one is going to love me and
“Is someone going to save me?” and
truth is, I can’t
see around me what I can’t see
in myself

so the world looks dark and gloomy
for I am
blinded by the absence
which seethes through every pore
of my body, gone withered,
gone missing

Until
I half-open eye
dwelling somewhere in my spirit –
Banner on linoleum wall, reading
“You are not alone anymore”
Hand, reaching, saying
“You don’t have to be afraid
anymore”
and so I whisper,
“I’m sorry”
to a child
living in my body
and she tells me,
“It’s going to be all,
alright,
just don’t leave me here again.
Start at the beginning
and finish when you’re done
and you’ll know when that is
because you’ll look around and see
how many people you are helping
by drinking
from cup of truth,
not only savoring,
but sharing
every
last
drop.”

EJZ 02.11.2016

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I am a love addict.

and that may sound romantic
but it’s a torturous hell
and my heart and my life
are an endless, bottomless cavern
that cannot be filled.
Never enough to be quenched, my thirst.

You know, you can’t hold water in your hands
but you try and you try
to form yourself in such a way
to become a vial, yourself
and you’re vile, yourself
but you can’t tell
because all your mirrors are broken
and you can’t see yourself
in the water you’re still trying to contain in your hands –
the ones that couldn’t grasp to begin with
because you think it’s your life force,
your
all that’s left on Earth
and you forget the fountain you strayed from
before you set out on your quest for that unattainable goal
which had you scrambling through mazes and missions and conquests, untenable
and you dropped your key from your back pocket
and it drowned in the water
which slipped through your hands
as you desperately tried to contain it
and friction won’t help
and frantic slits throats
and stupefies –
Losing your head
in the water,
slipping through hands
like time on the shore
and nobody told you
the power was not in the key,
in the water,
it was in you
but you had to let go to find out
and then you find out
there never was water,
just hope
and your hands couldn’t grasp what they never felt
so you’re left empty, forlorn

but there is a fountain

still water,
contained,
the key, floating
and yours
if you choose to look in
and grasp
and say –

I am a love addict
and that may sound romantic
but it’s a torturous hell.

EJZ 09.17.2015

Serial Monogamy

Passionate love affair notoriety
Fall in love too fast,
too hard,
too long,
just the way I like it.

Inside crying ambiguity
I left for home,
stopped along and forgot
my destination
long passed,
my past.

Ask me about my scars.
No worries, I’ll be vague –
Too much weight to carry
so I’ll do it myself.

Verily, verily
we roll along –
Tout-suite –
clapping
drums never played

Spit out the hand that never fed you.
Truth be told,
No matter –
it was only yours
Truth be told,
who needed it anyway, yours?

Give freely
Love wholly
Fall quickly
Cry once.

EJZ 08.04.2015

Can you be half-pregnant?

I need you.
I need you in my bones.
A deep body need –

I want you,
leaking from my heart
spilling through my veins
and returning.
My blood is begging you,
“Replace me”.

I don’t want to be my own.

Devour my tongue
with notes of cherry, grape, pine,
and shield me in your
oak, barrel, cask.

I desire to bathe in you,
to wash away the past
permeating my skin.

I have a mild case of alcoholism –
my first admission of half truth.

The rest is a lie I tell myself  –
denial,
one
and the same.

So I’ll half deny my blood.

My capillaries scream at me.

My dreams are haunted by questions.

The answers lost in sudden chaos with which I wake
when I half-asleep remember I’m supposed to forget
that face, that laugh, that voice, that hand
that everything I thought was true
was lie.

I’d rather keep lying to myself
than let him do it
again.

So I’ll half deny my blood.

My capillaries scream at me.

My dreams, still haunted.

EJZ 05.05.2015