Someone else…

by ZacharyWGilbert

It was about nine months or so, that I couldn’t survive without the care, of someone else.

Then, for some eighteen years or so, I ate, I slept, my bills were paid in full, by someone else.

On a rainy Saturday afternoon, I asked her to marry me, my entire life, was in the hands, of someone else.

After the interview, when I walked out of the door, my career was being decided by someone else.

In life, I think perhaps the best thing we can do, is cherish, and take care of, someone else.

. . .

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert

The Bully’s Definition

by ZacharyWGilbert

My skin once was bark,

I held birds in my green hair.

The morning air, held my cries

as I fell in the river

after that cruel metal

bit so deep into me.

…

My arms that once reached to the sky an out across the land,

cut.

My free love and enjoyment of life itself,

stolen.

My toes that felt the soft warm mud,

buried.

…

Bleeding sawdust I am reduced to boards.

A table is made from my bones.

A toxic slime is smeared all over me,

A deep rich varnish.

…

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert

 

 

Snippet of Life

by ZacharyWGilbert

Time sips slowly, on the invisible fluid of my soul.  I sit, and sit, and sit… trapped in a  concrete belly.   Cold metal teeth close tight , close forever.  Smiling under a small one way door.  I am swallowed. The quiet blanket of night holds my screaming mind.  No one is calling out for me as the world sleeps.  I am forgotten, left only with the memory of my deeds to keep me company.  One spark in my mind,  exploded in a moment. 17 raged seconds traded for a lifetime.   I close my eyes, the theater of my mind is covered in blood, while the orchestra plays only the wails of the dead.  I open my eyes hoping the walls will spasm all around me and digest me.  Finish me.  The bars hard bite hold. Silence.  I wait.  My broken mind trapped in a welded skull, kicks and scratches the walls.  Looking down at my fingers I see dusty concrete under my broken nails.  I slide my shoes off wet socks.  My broken toes throb under caked blood.  Time sips slowly.

. . .

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert