zlenko-thoughts

[zlenko-thoughts]

I haven’t written in a week. Or was it a month? Maybe a year? I have not spoken for eternity, hence my tears and wounded feelings. 

I have changed since I have written. I’ve gone brash, my words a mess. I’ve dealt with ghosts of selfish actions, and played tunes of vulgar actions. 

How do I return to write, when my language is destroyed? My mighty pen had slayed all faults, turning vices into virtues. Yet now they stand perverse and bare, as I ram through pages with my sword, breaking stanzas into sin. 

[zlenko-thoughts]

I loved so differently than you.

You loved from hunger. I from excess.

I had too much, and so I selfishly devoted myself to shed the love I naturally felt. I devoted myself to you.

You, meanwhile (cold, alone) only wanted affirmation. Gentle reminders that you matter. You felt nothing towards me.

We did not last.

[zlenko-thoughts]

And although you were my first love, that was the only "first" you have fulfilled

Since those days I've kissed and fucked, my body disconnected

[zlenko-thoughts]

I was not made to fall in love, to hear the church bells ring with glee

Nor was I built sew my wants, and grow my ecstasy within

Yet I was born to fall apart, and struggle selfishly for greed

To fill unfilled and empty wants

A life that suffocates with thirst.

[zlenko-thoughts]

And like a constant mantra, a waking in my ear, I cannot stop undying wants, to scream and to appeal