I trust, I hope and I don’t contradict
and am naive and childish
pink
I’m dreaming it seems
I believe in search
and maybe that is that

I vigilantly place my palm
on a freshly polished mirror
expecting it to pass through
closing my eyes

my core boils with warmth
with atomic vibrations
with life
with all true unreality
it outgrows me, but cannot walk on its own
yet it is my world
strange privacy

the more room I’m given
the more tangible it all becomes
the more audibly, loudly it runs 
I become quiet, careful not to scare it away
it’s getting dark as it’s getting brighter 
and I with one foot outside and the other inside
linger in the middle of everything
within reach of all doors and warrens
mirrors
I tell myself that it is enough to be within reach
because nothing in here denies their existence
and besides, I can feel them
just to feel them

I coexist with everything I cannot see
breathe with everything I cannot hear

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A little bit about the author :

Name : Zuzana

Pronouns :  they/she

Age : 20

Location : Czech Republic

I am always looking for white rabbits under stones and on pages;

 I’m secretive and solitary like overgrown gardens and searching for an infinite understanding. I started with writing short snippets in my sketch book, snippets turned into long diary entries, turned into illustrated zines of poems. About half a year ago I bought Letters to a Young Poet by Rilke in Prague and cried reading it on a train ride home. 

“Confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write.”

“To walk inside yourself and meet no one for hours – that is what you must be able to attain.”

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