Jaz Persing is a writer, singer, and human living in Los Angeles. She works in television when she can. The rest of the time she’s just looking for a dare-to-be-great situation, hoping she can put a good dent in the world with the mess of broken love, vulnerability, and words she has. In the meantime, she’s immensely grateful for God and the many good people around her that make it all seem feasible.


The square chunk cubic zirconium what-have-you that sits on real silver
real silver that tarnishes like I do in the air
I’m supposed to polish but I let it decay
Let these squares slide into my lobes as they are
Even when hugging people close stabs me in the head
But I wince and adapt
The sharp edges will erode over time

I lost them once
They leave me behind the mire of behind my imposing dresser
And I forget how much I miss them
Until I borrow hers that night

That one night where we laid down to look at the stars
But I vomited everything in me instead
The taste of bile never leaving my mouth
Even as I thought of her
Even as I dove like a maniac behind the dresser
And cleaned everything
A lifetime of dust and forgotten and former selves
Just to slide them in my ears again and remember her
Remember the moment
Feel we were connected

That was before everything got sucked up into the void.

And now I think of you too
Of your body entwined in mine that morning
My heart racing, losing myself in your eyes
Hearing, feeling your hot smoke breath explore my inches
my fingers in your back and hair, still tasting vomit again

I need to drink less
But so do you

But I look at your tiny Christmas tree glowing in the corner
as I feel your tongue that never leaves my mind
envelope my ear,
taking these earrings away without my knowing,
lost in my ecstasy somewhat but mostly escape.

You saved me from her
And then I needed saving from you

But still I wear them
Still in my ears they’re always for you
But maybe still for her
And maybe they’ll be mine again

Fuck You to the Beach and Back