8 hours ago


I'm sirwca

I enjoy reading poetry
and shooting heroin
in my free time

I make up for my lack of social skills
by coming up with cool handshakes
with death,
pushing life straight to the edge
just to chicken out
when the time comes to jump

I traded all the beautiful, small things
in my life for an eraser,
smearing off the supposed typos
of an essay written for the act
of breathing

All the components associated
with aforementioned essay
cease to exist
when I poison myself

The good, the bad,
and everything
in between

I wrote this in memory of a dying train of thought, of a time when the only way I could look was down.

Cotton pillows swim in a pool of alcohol
Like moths in an autumn light
In lazy ovals.
The needle stands at calm attention
Like thirsty corn in a sumer rain
Drinking slowly in
A tourniquet writhes on yielding flesh
Like a relentless boa constrictor creating
Bulges of anticipation
While the hungry eye watches.

No, I never did it.
#drugs   #heroin  
Dec 4, 2016


I watched you kick, you moaned and you sweat
I gave you all the pills I could get
I let you complain, bitch and than whine
I let you steal my only dime

I let you kick out on my couch
You deceived, you lied and made me vouch
Watching you kick was not a pretty sight
All your demons, all trying to bite

I helped you kick until you finally got right
So why are back at the dope house tonight?

Traveler Tim
Ya I once loved a junkie or two.
Mary Scott
Mary Scott
Nov 20, 2016

Cold tap water, colder shoulders
are you mad or still waking up?
When is the last time you slept through the night?
or better yet, spent the whole night inside?
What are you looking for out in the street anyway?
This road's been a dead end since the first time
you let the liquid sugar hit your veins harder than your lips,
and instead of sips now you indulge every day just to get by,
but I still don't get why you let yourself get that bad.
You forgot about the daughter, mother, friends you had,
didn't you?

We didn't forget about you,
the sugar still turns you white,
even in your casket I can smell the apologies as I bend over for
one last goodbye,
I refuse to watch a family breakfast crumble
at the hands of heroin again,
I refuse to let a substance win,
like it did with you.

#sad   #drugs   #heroin   #dead   #personal   #freeverse   #mine   #jmk  
Nov 19, 2016

I never thought you'd take it so far

A clever girl with spots running across

Your cheeks were pale this morning

It reeks of foul play and burning

Black tar bubbling on a hot summer

Days in the sun remind me of the

Night we soaked each other in liquor and

Fucking basements are chilly when

Your blood runs thin, the ink soaks skin

Needle pricks again and again but

This time you stayed asleep.

Rest in peace...old friend.

#death   #heroin   #loss   #poison   #overdose   #harddrugs  
Alice Malice
Alice Malice
Nov 13, 2016

"The pupil of your eye can expand up to 50% when looking at something you love." We were kissing on a lazy morning
and you had taken your medicine.
Not allergy pills
or mood regulators like mine,
but the medicine that helped you
not use. Your dick was soft,
but the doctor told you that was normal.
I didn't care.
You weren't using right now,
and I was in love.
We broke off the kiss
and you looked me in the eye
to tell me you loved me.
I noticed how small your pupils were,
and instantly thought of that goddamn meme.

"The pupil of your eye can expand up to 50% when looking at something you love."
I tried laughing at myself
and explaining the meme to you,
and you laughed at me, with me,
telling me you just dosed
and not to take it so personal.
A month and a half later,
you sent me a late night message.
Late nights were a norm now,
me working my ass off
to afford the move out of state with you,
you going back to college
and preparing for the move with me.
You told me you couldn't keep doing this,
it wouldn't work,
and you never really articulated
the how's and the why's.
It was okay.
I never really wanted to know them.

"The pupil of your eye can expand up to 50% when looking at something you love."
Two months later
and I finally have my hat
and my scarf back.
The scarf was fine,
it smelled only of basements
and dust, which made me sad.
But I sniffed the hat
and I could have sworn I smelled you.
I could smell your morning hair on that hat.
I could remember looking at you
on that first morning,
slumbering in the morning sun,
your bronzed caramel skin glowing
in the warm light.
I remember how it felt
seeing you
in the mornings,
like my eyes were just
drinking you in, everything in me screaming
and I still can't.

"The pupil of your eye can expand up to 50% when looking at something you love."
I'll wash my hat and move on.

"The pupil of your eye can expand up to 50% when looking at something you love."
I'll remember you,
but I'll choose to
remember the tiny weak way
you looked at me,
like I wasn't particularly worth
holding on to.

"The pupil of your eye can expand up to 50% when looking at something you love."
And if I ever see you again,
I'll pray there's no track marks
on your golden skin.

"The pupil of your eye can expand up to 50% when looking at something you love."
I'll pray you've met someone
who made you
feel for them what I felt
for you.

"The pupil of your eye can expand up to 50% when looking at something you love."
And I'll pray you suffer their dismissal,
and cruelty
as I have suffered yours,
clean and sober.

Nov 12, 2016

The barrier of poison and puss
                    You're better than us
                   A metal chassis of rust
This and that and jist and just
                     An abyss full of fuss
                                   No love or lust
Cease to speak or discuss
                    A might or a must
                         The empty pie crust
Preference to throw or thrust
                       Detest and disgust
                         To cry or get crushed

Martin Narrod
Martin Narrod
Oct 31, 2016

Your parade makes me purple, it makes me thin as an alphabet, I don't know, I don't wanna understand. I'm an estimation, I'm over and not in great abundance. Don't defend me, I'm not the header atop your letter.

Open me, I'm like your chimney, inside your mouth I am the lips you dip your tongue through, growing with sensation. See me and seam me to threads and tow me through your pantie lines-

little piece of flesh
Just a little dance, Just a little romance
Keep in your pants let me be your postcard
I'll float across your eyelids.

Let me know your name
You can taste me skin. You can see my seams bend, my hours grow a little tired
Lifting up your dress, I can taste your pastes, your pastel belle comes floating at me sideways.

Ours and again, you ask me, "is it a nightmare?"
You ask me, "is it a car crash?" You say, "I can feel you breathing." This is not a spell, there's nothing left, not even a little lie I can play with in my fingers, you say, "is it the moon in the stars." And I stop you from ruining the sound of words to preserve a moment. Something a silence and a dollar doesn't buy you. I ask, " is this you my love? You're an imaginary process I'm never going to be interested in prosecuting perfectly. I'm not- an extroverted invert, a spirit floating in the corner of your eyes. I'm over zealous, a zealot, full of youth, using grief to keep your eyes

#heroin   #her   #grief   #relief   #hers   #penguins   #heroines   #heroess  

* * * *
baby girl
grown up now
again on her own
magnificent in her being
has become a tortured soul

some things don't seem fair
shouldn't have happened this way
are things as they should be?
that's what the wise ones say

watching your
sweet love child struggle
to make it through each day
such heart break to see a life
unfold this way

I hope and I pray
I hope and pray each and every day
she will choose this life
that she will choose to stay

Copyright © 2014 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved.

Martin Narrod
Martin Narrod
Oct 9, 2016

You know me better than I, better than I know myself; you know me like I want to, like I was my own world's father. A famous goddess, parishioners won't say her name, I wrote letters to her personally, but was never brave enough to greet face to face. There's a type of prose, only intimate partners dare to go, where adjectives take verbs in rounds, and lovers sing each other songs. I've you and you have me, I'm captured by you so lovely, there's nothing I wouldn't do, good or bad, I'd murder for you- a great vegan harvest, all of everything for my love the goddess.

In a world worshiped by false idols,
Where musicians and actors are modern day deities and neon signs flourese divine promises in magazines and the televangelist newscasters inject the masses with fear and false promises.
Opiated zombies take to the streets and go about their lives sleeping with eyes wide open at screens that have more meaning than their banal lives. But I woke-up long ago looking at the photo of your limitless azure eyes through a photograph. Long before I met you, I knew that one day our paths would cross and we would drive through the desert, deserted towns listening to Townes van Zandt and other musicians that most have only heard of through top 40 covers of their soulful songs.

The cacophony of coyotes, pumas, rattlesnakes and rabbits darting to and fro, in front of our headlights as quartz crystals reflect the full moon light, and Joshua Trees dance beneath the stars while we talk about Morrison, Harrison, Hendrix and the impact they have had on our lives. While most are drunk or dreaming, we are living the ultimate dream. I cannot wake-up to a world without you there-

Beside me and a space pig curled up asleep on the backseat as we trek across the Milky Way.

I smell the fires, their noisome stench fills my nose with the harsh turpentine and piceous smoke, but in the night we cannot see the trees. This fire could be right off our balcony. It could just be a neighbor's barbecue. How can people enjoy eating burnt and coal-battered meat? Your Uncle's neighbor apparently enjoys street meat. He killed a tick-covered deer, while he rode his scooter over the pass at night, and lied, he said he hunted it with his bare hands. Why must men and women and people lie, as if their stories capture more attention if they don't share what actually happened.

Dear you, I love you so. More and more with each passing day, I just hope one day we'll both leave this place, and share our final breaths in the same Earthen place. I promise you I'll share my final resting place so long as it's in a grave. I worry you'll want someone to spread your ashes, on a ski run in Aspen. Can we pretend small creatures live inside our walls, and rule a kingdom somewhere on our second floor, where Fraggles scramble to complete construction, on a network of tunnels.

I told you I would re-propose to you every day, I love you more than words can say. It's unquantifiable, just look beneath my eyelids. There's a man who used to share the hash he smoked, in a cove, somewhere in Venice, where the locals met us.

I'd drink and quaff your humanness, the pulchritude I cannot resist. The splendor you exude in all the passions you choose to do.

Hey you, if you find me here. Let me know if I'm still alive. I've made a wish to live, and be the father of your kids. We sing and laugh and sway, we eat apples and honey and pray, to an invisible god that could disperse all our flaws. And this moon, the one that has shone itself on empty roads, ignites the stars and stares at us shattering this cold. You were made in the image of life, I've been incommunicado but connected your dots. I wish I could color you by numbers, and count the hours we've slumbered.

There's cold-weather dripping from my nose. Where howling wolves and coyotes go. Where elk canter and mule deer pass, and a small boy moose named Bullwinkle waits for his mother to come back. Here is where the spotted marten eats from a rotting corpse, maybe it's a small naked shrew, it's map lines strewn across this town, where tourists think they know us, but they don't know my goddess.

Hey love, I'll never leave you alone. I'll never go to bed before you arrive home. I try and try not to yell, or even raise my voice above the evenings sounds. Do you hear the moose stepping on the frost-laden grass? It must have been starving for it to come this far. I'm learning now I know more about nothing, which I prefer to knowing something.

My hands won't put on the show, I told you I thought I knew. I prefer to be going down, so long as you'll always be around. I could count ten seconds until I realize my sentence. Poor birds fall out of the trees, there wings must have been freezing. I wait for you and I wait for your words. Your heart is made from all the things, I've only recently realized I've seen. Together, forever more. I take my hat off and hold open the door, I kiss your neck and eyelids and enjoy our shared silence. Keep me and never go away, you're worth more than the sky may lead, or the oceans breathe. I won't step, I won't speak, or breathe. Dear goddess, you're the only one I need. I need no one but you. I only need to know that you need me too. And one hour our shadows will meld together, while we wait outside freezing as we wait for summer.

But each season holds its own magic,
A seasonal  zeitgeist where we create our own traditions that supersede the Hallmark holidays that our oligarchies have created to lead people astray from the cohesive love and communal celebrations that our predecessors revered.
Yet each moment is a cause for celebration for you are a part of my life. I cannot wait to call you my wife.

From the moment I awake and feel your warm morning breath on my chest,
I breathe in the perfume of you and kiss you gently on the forehead as you hug me closer and face nuzzle me more deeply.
Each day, more perfect than the last.
I fight sleep because life with you is more splendorous than the culmination of all of my dreams. A symphony and an endless sonnet, fairy tales cannot come close to telling the story of our love.

You show my fingers where to go on the electric guitar strings of the mahogany fretboard of the guitar you gave me for my birthday.
My hands are slowly learning how to the play the notes and lyrics that I conjure in my mind. I cannot wait to play the songs that you inspire my soul to play. We shall sing together - a melodic harmony of a quixotic ambrosia that accompanies the vibrations of my guitar strings filtered through guitar pedals and amplified in warm undertones by the Fender tube amp.
Your bass line keeps pace with the heartbeat of the song as our voices go on
Singing the songs of our adventures
As leather wearing vegans and expedition smokers.

We smoke Marlboro Red Labels to pay homage to our Americana heritage,
As we drive the Prince of Darkness to foreign lands in search of crystalline moments to write, paint, create and sing about the dream we live everyday.
The dream I live with you my dear
,is the one I never want to awake from.

Written between myself and my love Sarah Gray.
#love   #poem   #poetry   #heroin   #art   #poems   #couples   #shared   #sobriety   #dual  
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