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rantipole Aug 2015
i promised i would stop
but,
you are the vice
i cannot give up,
the addiction i will always
hold on to.
the comforting
crippling
reminder
of the fate that could have been
but will not be.

it feels like years
since i've heard your voice,
since i felt your skin
against my skin.
years since
i had something
worth
letting my guard down for.

the flowers were still
in bloom
and the warmth
was plentiful.
we were alive
but,
it is winter again
even in the dead of August,
even in the smoldering heat.
it is winter
again
and i am cold
without you.
Devashish Kumar Aug 2015

It was a complete mess.
Loads and loads of things,
From soiled hosiery to paper cups
From books to each piece of clothing I ever had
Were thrown everywhere around in the room.
The whole place looked robbed.

Cleaning the room and keeping things in order
Was never my responsibility.
It was hers.
She would nag about it all the time.
She would ask
What I’d do without her.
This was the one question I never wanted to know the answer.

May be that was why,
I was reluctant to clean the place.
Deep down, I believed,
If I waited long enough,
She would figure I could not manage without her
And she would come back
And clean up the mess.

But weeks had gone,
I still had no clue about her whereabouts.
Why would she do that to me?
I was the love of her life.

“Enough is enough.
I am going to clean this mess.
I don’t need her.”
Enraged, I decided to start with books.

Books were the second best thing in my life.
They’d keep my company always.
Then I saw the book, which she bought me
When we moved to the countryside.

As I picked that book,
A small turquoise-y peacock feather fell.
The falling feather brought to me
A series of memories-
A mix of sad and happy moments with her.

After we moved here, we went to a park
In hope, it would cheer me up.
And it did cheer me up.
We played, we laughed.

At a distance, there was a peacock,
Boasting its colourful feathers.
I’d never seen a peacock before.
Amazed, I found a feather it had left behind.
Which I insisted to keep.
She placed it in the book
We just bought.

I still tremble sometimes,
When sights of my drunkard father beating her cross my mind.
He would abuse her and do sick things to her,
Still she would say he was my father
And I ought to respect him.
How could I?

And one time, he beat me.
He beat me with a belt
Because she bought a ‘stupid’ book for me
Instead of a bottle of bear.
That was the last time
I’d seen him.
She decided we would move away
Without any second thoughts.

“You’re meant for great things.”
She would always say.
She did odd jobs,
Tailoring, waitressing, private tutoring,
So that we could manage my school bills, rent
And square meals a day,
Probably ignoring health and physical wellness.

She sacrificed everything for me.
When she’d me, she left her job to look after me.
After we moved here,
Things were supposedly normal.
But she was going great troubles
To make ends meet,
With a smile on her face, she kept going.

At that instant, I knew she would never leave me.
She was still watching me,
Probably telling the stars
About her 'childish' son.
“I will make you proud.”
I promised to my Mom, my hero.

…  And I am still trying.

Dedicated to all the mothers, who sacrifice their everything, for the sake of their children.
Marlo Jul 2015
We were only friends because we shared mutual vices . Yeah, we ran around together and listened to each others problems. But throughout that we were high, drunk, or suicidal . How much do you think we could honestly care like real friends do? How often do you think we were together when the sun shined? Smoke clouds held us through brandy-lakes and just above Hell. Without those, apart, we fell . We were only friends because we shared mutual vices.
im back
Seán Mac Falls Jul 2015
Stuffed animal
Daybreaks next to wild roses
Teddy bear bleeding
Rae Harrison Jul 2015
//
your love is dope
and I'm an addict
//
Melissa Sherwood Jul 2015
Why do we always hold what hurts us the closest?
As if the pain it prescribes us will give us our purpose?
In truth what we love is a deceiving venomous serpent.
Is pain an addiction or are we all caught in the current ?
Edgar E Tobias Jun 2015
All you need is a needle, a pop can, and cotton
If you're new only a couple of bucks
But for those down on their luck
The stubbornly tough
They will need
a few
more

All you need is a needle, a pop can, and cotton
And not mind being alone
You will pawn off your phone
No one calls you anymore
Cuz you'll need
a few
more

All you need is a needle, a pop can, and cotton
The ability to lie, steal, and cheat
You'll undoubtedly use these
Even on your own family
Cuz you'll need
a few
more

You thought you were different than the rest, kid...
You thought you'd give it a try
Was it all that you expected?
Thought only this one time
And the others paved the way
To your biggest life mistake

All you need is a needle, a pop can, and cotton
Charlie Chirico Jun 2015
Overindulgence
can be habit forming.
A **** with diction
expounding
addiction will provide
rudimentary confliction.
Therein lies the problem
engraved on a needle
thrown in a haystack.

A **** or addict
can only shoot up
in a barrel that smells
of dead fish for so long
before stagnant water
leaves a residue and
film that peels off
quicker than a
week long scab.

To search for clean cotton
resembles digging through
a trash can for ingredients to
prepare a five course meal.
Flatware covered in water spots
are placed on a napkin that
doesn't dare dab chapped lips.

Fork to the left,
knife to the right,
and bent spoon shoved
in the back pants pocket.

If life is a box of chocolates,
overindulgence is the empty
box buried at the bottom of a
trash can. Struggle becomes a
wet glassine bag in an empty
wallet. And death is a pair of
silver bracelets. This is all about
over-extending, because if one
is enough, then two is too much.
Death-throws Jun 2015
Make it stop
oh how nieve you are
free as a bird
inside a cage
with wings made to fly
from page to page
sure ive burnt papers galore
but my soul, my spirit is no more,
you dont know now,
but you will
the effect you have on me,
no frills
youve made me realize,  that i am two sizes to big for this skin
and my kin ,
im scared
so scared you see,
of this demon lurking beneath me
caged birds dont get to fly to often
its so difficult when without my vice my bones soften
and to be with you is to brake both my legs
and even when my soul pleads and begs.
understand that  to scream at you is to show affection
because i have chosen my direction
to loose myself in you, is to find my way home
and never again,
shall i feel so alone
Im an addict
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