Last Friday I did a very good job
of drinking away
my anxiety.
The sad part was
the only person
there to see it
was my mom.
It took me awhile,
but five beers
and two
hard ciders later
I was free.
I’m almost 19
and I’ve already
started solving
my problems
with vices.
I had my pot phase.
It treated me no better
than any cigarette I bummed.
In the end
it was all just smoke.
Alcohol made me into something
I believed to be better.
I smile because I mean it.
I don’t shy away
From people.
But I’ve come to realize
that I’m worth more
than two shots of vodka
and bottle of Mike’s Hard
It’s so easy to forget
what’s circling
in my brain.
I forgot about
school starting
in 2 weeks.
I forgot about my friends
and why
I’ve been feeling
that there’s a lack there of.
It is no ones fault
but my own.
I have no pity
for myself.
I’ve refused to believe
that taking a pill
would vacuum
away the half finished
poems and the
torn up ideas I have
in my mind.
It’s become very
difficult
to explain
myself.
Most times I wish
I didn’t have too.
I’ve never been approachable.
I look mean
But I promise
I’ve always tried to give
everything.
I always thought
that if I said yes
then so would others.
I woke up that Saturday
at five a.m.
Realizing
that the world kept moving
when mine slowed down.
School will still come
and so will tomorrow.
Give me a pack of cigarettes
Because it’s much easier
to wash that smell from my mouth
than it is to get
these thoughts out.