so often, when i get handed stories where people die, I go to where it happened.

 I go the place where they were last themselves, in their bodies, alive 

"why do you film the flowers, Zach? 

why do you show us the grass?

the breeze? 

the green, green leaves?" 

i want to show what it means 

to look up at the sky one last time 

i want to leave flowers for them

when I don't...

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I went to the bakery, a simple task
To buy a loaf, nothing to ask
But life, with its subtle sway
Turns the ordinary into a display

The bread, round, golden, and neat
Waited for me, a silent feat
As if it knew what I didn’t see
That I was searching, though unaware of what it could be

It looked at me with a knowing gaze
Understanding more than I in these days
Too perfect to be just a b...

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