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About Literature / Hobbyist Zach.22/Male/Canada Recent Activity
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Portrait of the Artist :iconiitz-z3r0:iitz-Z3R0 0 0
Literature
Some place you've gotta be
I know that when you go, I'll find you by the sea
there's no place that you'd rather be
I know that when you go, you won't stop to look at me
there's always some place you've gotta be
That night in the park, as we stared and we counted stars
as they shot across the sky
They shot pain into my heart, as we lied there in the dark
because I knew it was a matter of time
I thought that I had seen two collide, but they went on their separate ways
as they faded into the black
and that's when I felt it deep inside, that we were kind of the same
and that you wouldn't be coming back
I know that when you go, I'll find you by the sea
there's no place that you'd rather be
I know that when you go, you won't stop to look at me
there's always some place you've gotta be
there's always some place you've gotta be
:iconiitz-Z3R0:iitz-Z3R0
:iconiitz-z3r0:iitz-Z3R0 2 0
Literature
Songs for you
Here I am, alone again tonight
I've cursed my heart, and I've hoped to die
but when you smile with your eyes
I still put down my guns and I don't know why
And I don't know
where it is you want to go
And I don't know
where it is you want to go
One more night, singing in the dark
I squint my eyes at faces in the park
the sea of passing cars
And here I am, but where are you tonight?
The bars have closed, just me and the streetlights
And I don't know
where it is you want to go
And I don't know
where it is you want to go
:iconiitz-Z3R0:iitz-Z3R0
:iconiitz-z3r0:iitz-Z3R0 0 0
Literature
Forgetting November
I was one day short of drinking for a week straight.
The mysterious cuts and bruises that riddled my aching body were probably a mirror reflection of my insides.
My stomach was a poisonous swamp of poor decisions and lack of impulse control
while my liver was the poor whipping boy for the sins my nicotine stained hands had committed.
As my lungs seethed and surged trying to take in the stale, smokey air around me, my bloodshot eyes scanned the tomb I had locked myself away in.
Empty cans littered the small glass table; cigarette ash still clinging to their rims.
A stack of instant ramen bowls carelessly placed inside one another leaned precariously, threatening to
spill the last few unsavoury drops of days-old kimchi at a moment's notice.
Dusty pillows were stuffed into the windows to prevent even the smallest mind-numbing ray of light from entering this
wretched place and disturbing my state of decomposition.
Slipping what remained of my cigarette into one of the many beer cans
I rubb
:iconiitz-Z3R0:iitz-Z3R0
:iconiitz-z3r0:iitz-Z3R0 1 0
Literature
Dead Birds
Perhaps I shoud've known,
when you took my hand and led me through the graveyard
of all the lost lovers
that once laid claim to your conclaved heart.
But I was unswayed; a bi-product of my desperation.
The wretched years that lay at the heels of my shoes
couldn't outstretch their horrible claws
far enough to stop me from moving forward with you.
And so we walked together, hands tightly clasped,
stepping over the ghosts of girls and bones of boys
onward and onward for what felt like a lifetime
towards the mists of uncertainty and unpoise.
And when the fog become choking and thick
and we became lost in it's haze
our little hands began to slip from one another
finger by finger, they fell away.
But as I turned to you in the thick of it all
I could not bare my teeth; only smile.
For I was glad to walk hand-in-hand with you
even if just for a little while.
:iconiitz-Z3R0:iitz-Z3R0
:iconiitz-z3r0:iitz-Z3R0 0 0
Literature
A BPD Gemini
I am the loathing and lonesome
but ever-yearning
I am the searching and sorrowed
but never learning
I am the careful and composed
but ever-alight
I am the friendly and followed
but never tonight
I am the hopeful and heartful
but ever-somber
I am the today and tomorrow
but never longer
:iconiitz-Z3R0:iitz-Z3R0
:iconiitz-z3r0:iitz-Z3R0 3 2
Literature
Timezones
I would keep the moon
If it meant that she could have
One more sunny day
:iconiitz-Z3R0:iitz-Z3R0
:iconiitz-z3r0:iitz-Z3R0 1 0
Literature
My Little Dove
Like mighty winds to a sleeping sea
that whip and whirl the waters to wake
two gentle hands have shaken me
in hopes that my sheathe of stone should break.
And should my hearth be lit once more
I pray the flame for years to grow.
To never douse through rain nor pour;
to keep me warm through ice and snow.
So I ask you now, O gods of time;
Heavenly things that watch from above:
"Please lend me strength, O thee divine
and let me keep my little dove."
:iconiitz-Z3R0:iitz-Z3R0
:iconiitz-z3r0:iitz-Z3R0 1 0
Literature
Ghost
Will you be the ghost
who haunts the dirty walls in
my forgotten home
:iconiitz-Z3R0:iitz-Z3R0
:iconiitz-z3r0:iitz-Z3R0 1 0
Literature
Pity, a haiku
Bittersweet feelings;
Love has come to speak again
But I've lost my tongue
:iconiitz-Z3R0:iitz-Z3R0
:iconiitz-z3r0:iitz-Z3R0 0 0
Forme de L'homme :iconiitz-z3r0:iitz-Z3R0 0 0 Call me a liar :iconiitz-z3r0:iitz-Z3R0 1 1
Literature
Homesick
Coughin' up blood like I swallowed my heart
choke on my tongue 'fore the words even start
:iconiitz-Z3R0:iitz-Z3R0
:iconiitz-z3r0:iitz-Z3R0 0 0
A self-portrait :iconiitz-z3r0:iitz-Z3R0 2 0
Literature
Dog Heart
She's afraid of the dark and holds her heart in a box.
Won't let you see her tears, but god she'll let you feel them.
She freezes up when the words aren't there and
eases up when the silence is comfortable.
Can't look you in the eye too long.
She speaks and spits and bites and hits with passion -
a facade that caves only when she's alone.
Because it's that silence that eats her up.
She's a pocket watch with pretty gold filigree;
springs, screws and tiny gears.
Brass, glass and her deepest fears.
but with patience and care,
she'll always give you the time.
:iconiitz-Z3R0:iitz-Z3R0
:iconiitz-z3r0:iitz-Z3R0 2 0
Woe Be Unto Us :iconiitz-z3r0:iitz-Z3R0 0 0

Activity


I know that when you go, I'll find you by the sea
there's no place that you'd rather be
I know that when you go, you won't stop to look at me
there's always some place you've gotta be

That night in the park, as we stared and we counted stars
as they shot across the sky
They shot pain into my heart, as we lied there in the dark
because I knew it was a matter of time

I thought that I had seen two collide, but they went on their separate ways
as they faded into the black
and that's when I felt it deep inside, that we were kind of the same
and that you wouldn't be coming back

I know that when you go, I'll find you by the sea
there's no place that you'd rather be
I know that when you go, you won't stop to look at me
there's always some place you've gotta be
there's always some place you've gotta be
Here I am, alone again tonight
I've cursed my heart, and I've hoped to die
but when you smile with your eyes
I still put down my guns and I don't know why

And I don't know
where it is you want to go
And I don't know
where it is you want to go

One more night, singing in the dark
I squint my eyes at faces in the park
the sea of passing cars
And here I am, but where are you tonight?
The bars have closed, just me and the streetlights

And I don't know
where it is you want to go
And I don't know
where it is you want to go
Songs for you
A very very very premature version of a song I wrote today.
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I was one day short of drinking for a week straight.

The mysterious cuts and bruises that riddled my aching body were probably a mirror reflection of my insides.
My stomach was a poisonous swamp of poor decisions and lack of impulse control
while my liver was the poor whipping boy for the sins my nicotine stained hands had committed.
As my lungs seethed and surged trying to take in the stale, smokey air around me, my bloodshot eyes scanned the tomb I had locked myself away in.
Empty cans littered the small glass table; cigarette ash still clinging to their rims.
A stack of instant ramen bowls carelessly placed inside one another leaned precariously, threatening to
spill the last few unsavoury drops of days-old kimchi at a moment's notice.
Dusty pillows were stuffed into the windows to prevent even the smallest mind-numbing ray of light from entering this
wretched place and disturbing my state of decomposition.
Slipping what remained of my cigarette into one of the many beer cans
I rubbed my eyes with clammy hands.
They burned almost as bad as the acid in my guts.

I slowly lowered my head back down onto the couch that I had all but become a part of for the past 6 days
and pulled the old blanket up to my neck with trembling arms.
As the ice-cold comforter made contact with my sickly-white skin it sent a shiver down my spine -- but it felt good.
The sudden but not unpleasant shock of the cold fabric gave way to a series of thoughts that grew insidiously
inside my hazy, war-torn mind. A series of simple but profound realizations that I so longed to have had those many
months ago. For it was not that I'd been employing alcohol as my lord and saviour for these miserable 6 days alone,
it had been a serial numbing; each bottle dragging me further asunder, smiling back at me all the while.
I outstretched my bruised arm once more to grab a cold part of the blanket, bringing it closer to my rotting core, as if
it were some sort of life support system that kept my feverish mind operating on a level of lucidity that was so rare these days.
As I continued my harrowing journey through my thoughts, more and more became painfully apparent to me.
I wasn't escaping anything anymore.
I was merely making a devil's deal, trading once source of pain for another.
Wisps of steel-blue smoke still hung low in the air as I forced my body upright, becoming entranced in deep introspection.
I closed my eyes, in an act half of self-preservation and half psyche-numbing shame.
As the orchestra of assorted day-old poison in my guts and metallic ringing in my head swelled to a crescendo,
I found myself somewhere else -- somewhere beautiful.
Somewhere almost forgotten.
As if some sort of gift for my penance by higher beings unknown, within my mind I found myself in a daydream of
unparalleled realism; one of such brilliant vivacity and colour so very unlike the place where my poor body truly was.
This gift of the mind, this daydream, was one of a simple time.

I found myself on a park bench, in the grips of autumn. The trees were still cling to their last few shimmering leaves as they wait for them
to join the others, dancing in the chilly wind.
There was a girl beside me on the bench, our hands clasped together, numb from the brisk November air.
Although I did not see her face, it became apparent very quickly that she meant very much to me.
I could feel her hand, cold and dry, moving our thumbs over one anothers fingers in that way that lovers do.
I could smell the earthy scent of decaying leaves paired with the gentle sweetness of the cold air as
as clearly as I knew my own name.
I felt the warm expansion in my chest as my heart filled with that tragically near-forgotten feeling.
Birds sang songs of dulcet tones as they flew carefree overhead; their tiny wings proudly stretched out as they made preparation for the coming snow.
Although it was cold, neither the birds nor I seemed to mind as the sun wrapped us all in it's unconditional warm embrace.
It must've been getting late because the sun was low in the sky, painting everything in warm, earthy tones of red and gold.
A smile, perhaps never so innocent, came from my stomach and crawled it's way out of my mouth.
I took a deep breath and opened my eyes.

Tears mournfully greeted my cheeks as I painfully came back down to reality.
Although it felt like hours that I sat there in silence, I could tell by the smoke still lingering in it's wispy ephemeral form
that it couldn't have been longer than a few minutes that I had dozed off.
Unchanged sat the precarious pile of ramen bowls,
the cigarette-ash trimmed beer cans, the dusty pillows
and the innumerable cuts and bruises that littered my arms and legs, and probably organs.
But one thing did change, and perhaps it was the most important thing of all.
What changed was my belief that alcohol was what I needed to feel good.
Back then, it wasn't a tallboy in my hand, it was a hand of another.
It wasn't pain in my heart, it was love.
And it wasn't smoke in my lungs, it was the cold November air.
I threw the now tear-stained blanket off my lap and pulled the pillows off the windows.
I gathered all the empty beer cans and ramen bowls and stuffed them into a garbage bag
And as I stood up and let out a sheer cry;
a cry of happiness and of relief and of renewed strength.
For I felt like I had been exhumed from this festering tomb
that I had so carelessly built around myself.
This tomb that could have been my final resting place,
had I not gained the strength to fight it.

Because once you've lost that innocent smile, it's easy to drown yourself.
It's easy to lock yourself away and stop looking for the birds.
It's easy to blot out the sun and slap away it's warm embrace.
it's easy to lay down and forget about it all.

But I'm sick of forgetting about November.
Perhaps I shoud've known,
when you took my hand and led me through the graveyard
of all the lost lovers
that once laid claim to your conclaved heart.

But I was unswayed; a bi-product of my desperation.
The wretched years that lay at the heels of my shoes
couldn't outstretch their horrible claws
far enough to stop me from moving forward with you.

And so we walked together, hands tightly clasped,
stepping over the ghosts of girls and bones of boys
onward and onward for what felt like a lifetime
towards the mists of uncertainty and unpoise.

And when the fog become choking and thick
and we became lost in it's haze
our little hands began to slip from one another
finger by finger, they fell away.

But as I turned to you in the thick of it all
I could not bare my teeth; only smile.
For I was glad to walk hand-in-hand with you
even if just for a little while.
Dead Birds
I'll be right
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deviantID

iitz-Z3R0
Zach.
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Canada
My Name is Zach.
I'm your average 22-year old.
Pleased to make your acquaintance.

I'm from a city in Ontario, Canada.

I write about hopeless romance and being an alcoholic piece of trash.
Interests

Comments


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:iconarsenic-sea:
arsenic-sea Featured By Owner Apr 22, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
thank you for the watch :)
Reply
:iconthenoodlymaster:
TheNoodlyMaster Featured By Owner May 18, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
I stumbled across your page and damn, your stuff is good. Peace and Respect homie.
Reply
:iconxsoulboundc0rruption:
danni btw ;D :)
Reply
:iconredbookworm18:
redbookworm18 Featured By Owner Dec 18, 2011
Thanks for the fave! :iconchocolateheartplz:
Reply
:iconcookiekins40:
cookiekins40 Featured By Owner Nov 11, 2011
Jes stoppin by to say howdy!!!
Reply
:iconcoffeelicker:
CoffeeLicker Featured By Owner Nov 8, 2011  Student Traditional Artist
Good taste in movies.
Reply
:iconnghts1lk3r:
Nghts1lk3r Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2011
Thanks for the fave! :D
Reply
:icongreyoculus:
GreyOculus Featured By Owner Dec 15, 2010  Professional Traditional Artist
Thanks for the fav., I really appreciate it! :thanks:
Reply
:iconjusteline:
justeline Featured By Owner Nov 17, 2010  Professional Photographer
:iconredshirtthnxleft-plz::iconredshirtthnxfav2-plz::iconredshirtthnxrght-plz: for faving my work Zach! Many many thanks! :iconcocoloveplz:
Reply
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