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Amanda 1d
I wish you'd put as
Much effort into getting
Clean as getting dope
When I lost my excuses I gained results
I've tried to give up poetry,
As if it's some addiction.
Sometimes I feel like an addict.
Do you ever feel like that, you poets?
Do you get my depiction?
Addicted to the pen,
Confined to your mind--your paddock.
I feel like a junkie who's on it again,
Writing another poem to a friend,
For others to use it as I pretend.
I'm addicted to the waves,
As I'm tossed and blown about--their slave.
They pull me asunder.
Oh Lord, take me under.
Blow my cover.
Let me not be another fanatic on dope.
That doesn't mean I smoke;
I'm talking about words with emotion,
But sometimes I get lost in this ocean.
Compulsive to smoking,
I'm writing this, hoping,
That as my pen is the lighter
And my cigarette is the page,
I can light your soul on fire,
While keeping the addict in his cage.
May your demons choke on the brume
By the words that are the smoke you consume.
S Rose 4d
The color of thick smoke, but feathery like haze.

The sound off its wings reminiscent
Of today’s technology, humming persistent,

Its snout a needle, searching for veins.

I avert my eyes from the unpleasant theft
As though recoiling from alcoholic breath;

Though, when it bites, its midriff inflames,

To the sweet red hue of indulgence...
But never without consequence...

A person’s skin, left welted and maimed.

“Don’t touch it!” they scold,
But resolve grows old...

Scratching is all that I crave…
S Rose 6d
There’s something in the way he holds me.  It’s an inescapable void.
Me the weary traveler, he the siren.  I cannot turn away from his song.


There’s something in the way he falls short.  It’s a story, far too often read.
An ongoing battle, waged in my soul.  Labored, my psyche falls casualty.


There’s something in him I cannot tarnish.  It can’t be scrubbed from existence.  
A type of purity, only seen through my eyes.  Alluring, it defies my ethics.  



There’s something about him.  His grasp, his clutch…my running…it grows tiring.
Whispered prayers are all I have left…I see myself falling: I see my death.


I see the cycle
commence again.
Daisy Rae Sep 11
I haven’t always been an addict
I remember a time when I judged those who clung to bad habits like their life depended on it
I used to think why can’t they just stop?
I used to wonder why people would risk their lives just to feed that desire
If my 14 year old self knew me now she’d be ashamed
I wish I could go back and tell her that those friends are going to get you addicted
They’ll introduce you to things that you’ve always wanted to try
And eventually they’ll become things you can’t turn down
She probably wouldn’t believe me, she’s always been naive and stubborn  
I wish I could tell her that drinking only makes you forget for a little while
And that blurriness you feel only lets you escape for one night
And when you wake up the next morning the only thing you’ll look forward to is getting drunk again
you’re wrong she would say
I wish I could tell her that blunt won’t fix the loneliness in your heart
And that good feeling you feel right now is only temporary
And you’ll find yourself craving that again when your high is gone
You’ll blow your money that mom gave you on grams instead of what you told her it was for
you’re wrong she would say
I wish I slap that cigarette out of her mouth and tell her how addictive and deadly it is
And how mom would be so disappointed in her if she knew
And how stupid she was for allowing herself to succumb to all these things
It’s not that bad she would say
I wish I could tell her about the time she drank so much that she passed out in a strangers home and didn’t know where she was the next day
I wish I could tell her that she almost ran into a ditch and died because she was high while driving
I wish I could tell her how she couldn’t go a day without smoking at least 3 cigarettes and mom found out about it
you were right she would say when it was too late
Hooked on booze, drugs, and cigarettes
Crying alone in her room at 1 am, knowing that she couldn’t keep doing this
But not knowing how to stop
I wish I could tell her not to judge those people stuck on bad habits
Because one day that will be you too
And you still haven’t fully recovered
I can’t just stop she would say
And she still says to this day.
If I only could have warned my younger self
instead of saying
that we've moved on
we should say
that we're in recovery
because we're all addicts
in need of love
ready to fall
into our same old desperate habits
the moment we get a hit
Elisa Holly Aug 17
Brown eyes staring at the wall
Waiting for it all to crash to the ground
Empty bottles scattered all around
I lay my head real close to hear your breath sound.

But I know, I know its just to get to the other side.
My my, pretty brown eyes.
My my, pretty brown eyes.
Don't you see the dreams you can have?
Stop seeking this fog thats dragging you back.

I watch the glaze melt from your gaze.
Clarity brings tears of sincerity.
You crawl to the floor in search of that last drop.
Only to call a man to take you to your next stop.

But I know. I know its just to get to the other side.
My my, pretty brown eyes.
My my, pretty brown eyes.
Don't you know the life you can have?
Stop seeking this fog thats dragging you back.

Brown eyes open to the sky.
A white sheet covers them as they all pass by.
My heart sinks as the sirens turn off.
All I know is another soul is lost.

But I know. I know its just to get to the other side.
My my, pretty brown eyes.
My my, pretty brown eyes.
Didn't you see the love that you had?
You sought this fog that only drug you back.

My my, pretty brown eyes.
My my, pretty brown eyes.
Heroin.
Jasmine Reid Aug 10
my eyes are drenched with the oceans tears, vast and never ending.
my throat is choked in a bile of desperate words that want to be free.
my wrists burning in this warming sensation, that I want to cut out.
my lungs filled with the reminiscing smoke that was your words, laughter and smile.

It's given me cancer.

The cigarette butt that I kept consuming even though everyone told me to quit. I tired too, I'm still trying but then I keep crawling back to this needle and inject my veins with a distraction.
I feel warm, and I'm breathing normally, but then it settles in, I'm empty, needing to calm myself down with the sound of your voice that I can't hear.
get out of my head.
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