Zach Gilkey

Glaring light pierces my room, as my blanket hums a siren tune. BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP Slapping the snooze — It just won’t be quiet. Clutching the clock, yanking the plug, remembering my blanket, warm and snug. Head hits the pillow — eyes filling with sand, I slip back into...

I still look for you, in every room I enter — longing for your approval as I walk through the door. When it shuts behind me, the lock slams, deafening the room — quiet, and cold, my self-made tomb. I left your cup out, for your coffee in the morning....

Two months ago, I started writing to survive the hardest season of my life. Today, those poems became my first chapbook: In the Ashes of Rebirth. It’s a small collection about grief, growth, and finding light after everything burns down. You can get it on Gumroad for $1+. → Get...

Who Answers the Door? When an emotion arises, who is it that notices? I don’t mean your body — that would ignore your mind. And I don’t mean your mind — that would forget the experience your body has endured. Who is it that answers the door when sadness knocks?...

At some point, you have to let go of the things holding you— the relationship, the job, the friend or family member, the substances, the late nights. It’s not easy. For so long, they’ve felt comfortable—your escape from the truth. But that comfort turned into discomfort a long time...