Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I envision a world of darkness as I stare into my dreams,
taking me over as I breathe slowly in and out,
my chest rising as the fog coats the windows
of my small room.
The curious sound of scratching attracts my attention
as I notice a pale hand sitting on the edge of the window frame.
Its veins protrude from its coarse skin,
the pulse of its heartbeat thrumming
from beneath the blood-soaked lines in its fingers.
I try to cry out, but my breath comes up short,
as the cold of the night air binds me
to the thin sheets that wrap around me
like an inescapable web.
The hand stretches further into the window sill,
its thick yellowing nails digging deep into the old wood
as it cracks and splinters.
Its breath coats my skin as it moves closer,
staring through blue eyes blazing with joy
as a smile curves up on its crooked lips.
Black chipped teeth rot under bleeding gums,
open wounds, and pain coating my face as I stare,
the terror gripping me, pulling me deeper
and deeper into this abyss.
As it moves beside me, I can finally see
its twisted features in the tiny slivers of moonlight
passing through the window;
my eyes go wide as I know the smile
that now looks so familiar;
the eyes look like a mirror image of my own,
yet weighed down by years of abuse.
The monster I have created now looms so close;
it takes me over with every chemical breath,
every dark laugh as this misty shroud of smoke
begins to surround me,
taking me ever closer to the edge of life,
to the edge of the dream I am forever chasing
but can never seem to grasp.
Quantum Poet Mar 31
She came to me, with a vial of dust.
A means of a healing, the taste was like rust.
Her wings, her secret. Her halo gave no light,
As my desperate song found her ears in the night.

I knew what she offered. I knew the whole game.
And yet, I moved forward—a moth to a flame.
Her vial sparked flares that pierced through the black.
I knew in that moment; I’d never look back.

An ember lit the dust, its smoke filled my being—
An offering to the soul, to keep it from leaving.
Each grain was a vow. Each breath was a sin.
Yet a life that laid to end, now stood to begin.

But when the dawn broke, she was no longer there.
Just poison on my breath and dust in the air.
I did find the vial, but no other trace.
Just a void in the air and a numb, rusty taste.

I walk the dark path. Her whispers, my guide.
Chasing silence, so me and my demons can hide.
She gave me the calm in a handful of ash.
For once, I have laid down the guilt of my crash.

I'm addicted. I still sing that desperate song.
Here to stay, where I may, or I may not belong.
A forbidden solace, that keeps me in the calm.
My shadow that still tries to pull me along.

I remain tormented, so this dust stays near.
Angelic in essence, how it banishes fear.
This angel didn’t save me. For this, I have sight.
But gave me the will to outlast one more night.

By day, perceived evil. By night, purely good.
Should I alter my state? For a will to live, I could.
Might someone judge me? Who’s to say it's not right?
To choose life one more time and keep carving out light.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦
Blue Flask Mar 29
45 degrees to the left on a two lane road
Would stop the screaming
Stomach no longer boiling in its own acid
Just drowning in black coffee and take out
Sweat no longer leaving a cartoon outline on the sheets
Just need a cool ring pressed against my palate
They said it would be cheaper
Coffee quickly out spends the rot gut
Staring through gleaming glasses
Rather than the amber round, looking up
Smiling and swirling around
A dancer in the dark
My own symphony
Playing for me, just me
As I shake shake shake
It was always either the DTs or the cold
A ***** soaked cocoon of the moth I am now
Not right
Never quite
Roll the dice
Let the monthly chips fall where they may
Collect like them a thousand purple hearted liver spots
Build a castle of coins
Circular towers, thrown stones in miller’s glass lighthouse
Addict yourself to getting better
Its the only way forward
Even when you are being pulled backwards
Lemon Black Mar 26
The leaflet reads:
“Be mindful of your desires,
be careful
where they come from
and where they’re heading.
Use drive to drive choice.
Be the one who decides
before you join in
and follow along.
Otherwise
the path to your freedom
is then walked down
bare feet and bare mind.
The good ol’ valley of yours.”
Inside your own head, own voice,
while taking a handful.
We know the details but don’t know the truth of what really runs through the head when poisons run through the veins, poisons of all sorts. The experience seems real, the calling very much so, so strong that we decide to answer, despite our reason objecting. It is its most shameful moment of losing control over a creature domesticated eons ago. The beast rushes to the electric fence only for shocks and burns, not even trying to escape, rebelling yet still yoked. How many times before it tries another path, and does the path lead only to the destination? Through seeking come findings.
and nada Mar 25
Wandering to a place that I have no intention of staying,
wondering what my mind has me saying.
Multiple thoughts running around inside
and nobody near to clear my bind

Im stuck.

So many options, too many to choose
Maybe one more will get back my old views,
Flavors behind the glass looking almost like candy
For $30 though like, you could just buy a brandy
Or maybe a cake -something else that you can actually enjoy.

One puff and my mind is ‘awake.’
And we’re stuck again with this ******* cancer toy.
This **** makes me feel terrible and irritable af
Why is it that I cant give it the **** up?
ah I wrote this a while ago (like 2020)
Pixie Mar 23
I never held you,
only met you once—
a blurry FaceTime smile
through the screen of someone breaking.

Your name still echoes
in the chambers of my heart.
I asked for pictures,
asked about your therapies,
asked if she missed you.

She said yes.
She said so much.
She said nothing at all
that could undo
the dark she kept choosing.

I offered her light.
A room.
A chance.
A future where you had a mother
who came back for you.

But she blurred the days
until stars and moon meant nothing.
She couldn't see you
through the fog.

I tried to be enough
for both of you—
enough to help her
see your little hands
as a lifeline,
not a burden.

But she let go.

I held on too long.
Not to her,
but to hope—
that you'd be her reason.
That love might dig her out
when logic couldn’t.

You were never the problem.
You were the light.
The small, glowing miracle
she left in the dark.

And still,
I think of you.
Jeremiah.
Jerbear.
Sweet boy with a story
written before you could speak it.

Maybe you’ll find me someday,
when you're older,
when the past starts to ache.

I’ll tell you
how I tried.
How your mother did love you—
in a way too bruised to be safe.
In a way too broken to hold on.

But I never stopped thinking
you were worth it.
And I still believe it now.
Watching your friends abandoned their children for addiction is heartwrenching
Andy Denson Mar 22
change is the only constant
but being is open-hearted
& loving more.

i don’t want to be so
drunk
that i wake up in gun hill road.
home on new year’s day. 7 am.

for me, you can always reclaim a
sense of sanity
even in a time of chaos.

there are many things that
one
cannot reclaim.

why should i try?
if those things are gone…

did i need them in the
1st place?

self-worth comes back.
things get stolen.
for something
new.
This poem reflects on the tumultuous journey toward sobriety and self-discovery. It grapples with the desire for change, the fear of losing oneself, and the realization that some losses pave the way for newfound self-worth. The imagery of waking up on Gun Hill Road symbolizes moments of reckoning, while the contemplation of what is truly necessary invites readers to consider the essence of personal growth.
Next page