millions of red threads
and yet the one that holds significance
tied around the little finger,
hooking me to you.
the red string theory—
fragile, probably a lie,
but doesn't it make you cherry?
 
glitter on my hands,
i'm no angel but i leave behind what i couldn't mend.
it sparkles, everywhere i hold you close—
skin placid, hissing almost under touch.
throw glances, lips curving to a smile,
you're enchanting, flickering alive.
 
what can i help with?
give away all i breathe,
i'll hand over all my pills,
stop injecting myself with words i can't speak,
pause inflicting pain upon scars that you won't ever seek.
 
dim lightning, darkened horizons,
drugged-up eyes, seeing through the glimmer.
my vision fades every time the needle pierces—
through my skin, i feel it pulsing,
leaving behind the sensation that slowly dulls away everything.
heaven and back, while rotting on the same couch,
i breathe in the smoke, ashes turning grey.
my hair sticks to my skin as i sweat through the blaze.
 
rehab never taught me how to exist.
being so undone, the remedy is sick.
prescriptions changing,
seldom any constants.
syringes filled with all that remains far from legal—
they call them drugs, is love any far behind in evil?
 
the kind of touch that leaves traces once it's gone,
hallucinations scripting out desires and thoughts and scenes that couldn't become.
withdrawal makes me crawl, no cure that could stop this spiral.
once the highs have been lived through,
the crash arrives as an aching breakthrough.
 
i cry in gemstones that rest in the corners of my eyes—
sitting, waiting, you can't detach them.
they strain towards permanence every time i sigh.
 
the back of the cab is filled with the blazing neons,
and it drifts through the street laced in LEDs and glistening homes.
i've got a pink heart vision,
the glasses leaving me to see stars on every face that carries
even the slightest seed of doubt—
anxiety etched to the masses,
they still envision.
 
i despise you've brought me back to this feeling—
the one i ran from, escaped, returned only to attach.
got me doing, fawning, sniffing white powder turning black.
 
my phone screen blips, lightning up,
the name repeating as i listen to the night come alive.
i'm too high, way too high to reply.
i tell you i was sleeping,
forgive me for my disguise.
 
cheap—cheap cheap.
i overdosed the wrong kind.
 
i look down at the bill,
see the name that wasn't meant to stay in the will.
the wrong wrong wrong addiction.
you failed me, cursed me, broke me—
it's my turn to accept this affliction.
 
shouldn't have—should have.
don't regret—all i do is regret.
ended, stopped, relapsed—now it's all red.
the stick in white in between my fingers,
lit at the end, vapour rising to the flimsy night air.
i sit on the sidewalk, watch the vehicles pass—
too dazed to care.

i'll stop existing, leaving no traces.
this shirt doing much less to stop the cold as it caresses my skin,
blankets the wounds, takes away all that i fear.
i shall move, get up, throw away the burnt-out ****,
walk away, the bottoms of my converses heading down the road to nowhere.
 
you won't even bother to map out the path.
i just know,
the cruelty and the false lies have long since encompassed you whole.
see what i am,
but you are way beyond my control.

i tear myself open
like a letter
never meant to be read,
until my hands tremble
and each line
bleeds into the next.

i’m the sum of everything
i swore i’d never be —
the cut, the salt,
the silent weight
of an empty glass.

the shell i’m left with
isn’t worth taking up space.
i became my own enemy,
when i ran out of people to blame.

No more days wasted running round and round
Hiding from each new unexplained sound
The negative outlook continues holding me back
It's time to get my life on track
Let past me die so I can be born once more
New confidence shining from my core
My mind will remain open my mouth will stay shut
Bedazzled jeans adorning ****
Stop creating excuses for my bad habit
My improved self is strong enough to quit!

on the sun-soaked terrace,
with the stem
cold against my fingers,
I raise my glass to your laughter
and the wind tousling my hair.
we are gleaming golden,
fermenting a quiet kind
of sweetness.

your presence
slips past my guard,
softening the stains
of our past,
like sunlight
through old glass,
faintly blooming still.

you’re a risk to me,
to my sanity.
asking me to walk
barefoot through hell —
not to escape it,
but to understand.

i’ll happily drink to the fire,
to this dauntless
absurdity
building a shrine
in shades of dangerous red,
stirring the fallen ashes
our burnt-out flickers
once left.

Another night, another drink.
Not too much—just enough.
Enough to ease the tightness
when I think of your hands on my arm.

Sober, it’s too much.
My chest burns,
tears press forward,
my breath turns on me.

I try to ground myself—
TV flicker,
phone glow,
messy bed,
tight socks,
empty bottle.

Five things I can smell—
but I stop.
The bottle stares back.
Still empty.

I head downstairs,
open the fridge,
grab a few more.
Not to get drunk—
just to keep the sting away.

I say I’m healing.
Say therapy’s helped.
But I don’t believe I have a problem.
My bottles are quiet enough to believe me.

They pile beside me,
the only ones
who know the truth.