Zac Gosney


Jesus went to an art gallery once 

I know, I saw him. 

I spent the whole time looking at him, trying to gather the nerve to walk up to him. But what do you say to Jesus? 

He already knows what I should ever, 

could ever, 

and will ever say to him. 


Evidently, I didn't need to walk up to him. 

He walked up to me and asked how I enjoyed the exhibits. 

I said I was a big fan of the creations. 

He said thank you. 


We talked for what seemed like an hour, 

but no time passed at all. 

I picked his brain on every topic you could imagine. 

Creativity, the world, evil, heaven. 

Eventually, I asked him why we were created, 

what our purpose was. 

He thought for a little while. 

It was the only question he seemed unsure about answering. 

After what felt like minutes of silence and eye contact, 

he finally said. 

"My son, people from around the globe pray and pray to me every day with this question. They see me as their safety, 

and I see them as my children. 

I made all of your kind in my image, my son, with everything I had known to protect you. All I ever wanted was a child, 

and that's all you ever had to be."



I realized today 

that I don't hate you, 

I don't even dislike you. 

I hate the fact that I've forgotten how to feel valuable without you. 

I hate that feeling of worthlessness that creeps in whenever I'm not with you. I hate that I need you. 

You are everything I tried to get away from while promising everything I was trying to reach. I loathe our love for each other. 

You will always be perfect for me, 

and for that 

I'll hate us forever. 

I wish we drifted when we were younger, 

and you could've always been that what-if in my head. 

Instead, our love was brought to fruition. 

What a waste, what a waste. 


I told my mother about you, 

She seemed so happy. 

If only she knew. 

She'd surely hate you. 

But just like me, she became more attached to your potential than your actualization. 

I was always like my mother. 


You never even needed to lie to me once. 

I loved you so much I lied for you.



Drive, my honey, past the fields and the mills, 

The green grass grows greener all over these hills. 

Yes, drive my babe, let the trail be our guide. 

What's a purpose anyway? Just stay along for the ride. Drive, my love, through all the roads and ridges, 

the cities, the streets, all the small towns, and bridges. Drive, my darling, like a man on a mission. 

Let the world melt away when the key's in the ignition. Every day, I'm blown away, by your superstar condition. My friends think you're ugly. May they burn in perdition. Your model, your frame, I can't help but feel envy. 

You outmatch an Audi, a Benz, or a Bentley. 

You outmatch them all, honestly times twenty.

You outmatch them all, and without you, I'm empty. 

So drive, my dear, leave the world forever, 

whatever the weather it will be my pleasure. 

I'm writing this poem, every verse, ever measure, 

to make you feel treasured, you're my greatest treasure. The king of my hill, yes, you hold me together.

No one makes me better, no one whatsoever. 

Oh, I love that I love you, I'll never betray it, 

and I know that you love me though you'll never say it. 


Speaking of which, just something I should state. 

I never thought it was that important anyway. 

I hate to ruin the appeal, and I know we've got this far, but I wanted you to know I wrote this poem about a car.

Zac Gosney doesn't exist, but if he did, he'd be an aspiring poet, philosopher, and performer. His writing tends to skew towards open-ended topics such as happiness, religion, love, and the human condition. When not constructing one of his masterpieces, Zac can be found rabble-rousing, troublemaking, and committing general acts of tom-foolery. Lastly, Zac would like to remind you to smile today, make someone happy, you have more power than you think you do.