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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.
this one is about rock bottom. and realising it’s not a place. it’s a self.
July 22, 2025
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.
this one is a toast to danger, desire, and what smoulders in the quiet still.
July 17, 2025
the space in my mind
is occupied by your entity,
merging with mine.
you pose as a false god,
painting me the enemy –
demanding a sacrifice
each time I resist
your quiet reign.

I enabled it.
let you have your fun.
called it inspiration,
called it love.
called it anything
but what it was.
of all my failures,
you were the most toxic one.

I gave you everything –
piece by piece.
you’d cover my mouth
to silence the plea
whenever I sought shelter,
with hands, trembling,
still tied to a bottle
you call the cure.

you smother what’s left of me –
dressed in ebriety,
hiding the abuse.

and I need to say goodbye.
not because I want to.
but because I’ve had enough.
of you hurting me,
of you driving me
to hurt myself.
you’re costing me everything,
and the loss is exorbitant.

I’m not just saying goodbye to you.
you’re exiled.
your velvet threats,
your sugar-coated grip –
banished.
it hurts me more
than you think.
but this time, it’s final.
because I’m not ready
to see the aftermath
if it isn’t.
this one is about the last fight.
july 7, 2025
i say my name
out loud
to an unfamiliar room.

i can’t contain
my worn-out lies
burning through the truth.

they don’t flinch,
they’ve heard
this script before.

“the lower i sink,
the further i stray,
the harder i hit the floor.”

but they’re all ears,
offering silent company,
unravelling their past.

survivors of guilt,
hurt and poetry,
society’s outcasts.

our stories stay,
still shining bright
in sheltered wounds,

as i say my name
out loud
to a familiar room.
this one is about lying out loud — and realising they’d all done it too.
July 3, 2025
for years, i turned a blind eye.
sweeping caps beneath the rug,
until first light cracked,
then by morning,
it still wasn’t enough.

i drank, after greeting the day,
sometimes with coffee,
often just straight,
took a taxi to work,
then drank more on my break.
customers adored me,
or who they thought i was —
my second self
with blurred edges,
slightly louder than the dark.

some i crossed paths with
tried so hard to help —
to drag the demons out.
but the deeper they dug,
the harder i pulled away,
instead.

i’d sketch pretending on my skin
with ink from an earthy red.
dressed up for therapy,
clouds trailing like a veil —
midnight fantasy
chased with violet gin.
i called it survival,
but it tasted like sin.

spelled my sorrows on the carpet —
each drop a false reprieve.
and whilst they dripped
like honeyed mercy,
no one asked about the burn.
now bare, without prayers,
i’m an offering at your altar
after swearing i’d never return.
this one is a quiet remembrance of a toxic relationship — and how we never quite managed to break up.
June 28, 2025
I'm drinking a lot.
Forgot why I started
One excuse, it seems like
became a hundred.
Quietens the demons
You say, with a knowledge.
Always unsatisfied,
Life bleeds on a knife edge.

I'm smoking a lot.
Unsure of the whys
Trying to piece together
Sane parts of the mind.
They used to help
But keep dragging me down,
Just like we do each other
Deep underground.
Ben, 2025. Feb 2
I always thought the darkness fed on me.
Hunted me, like prey.
Made me weaker, made me lose control.
I realise now, darkness did nothing. I did.
I offered myself up on a plate,
Heading down the paths I have already walked.
It's all my fault. It's all on me.
What a freakish thing,
Blaming my wrongdoings on him.
If anything, darkness is a mate
I owe an apology to.
I didn't mean to bad-mouth you,
When you're the only one carrying me
On your back, when I get deep, dark blue.
June 8, 2025
undefined Jun 3
The call to Oblivion
gets harder to resist
A desire to be numb
so obviously persists
I changed "temptation" to "Itch" because, while it may seem more crass a word to use, I believe that it is much better suited
Márk V Jun 6
Drink your beer, I don’t need that,
I need something else, a bit bigger bottle.
Not the yellowish kind, invisible,
or bitter-smelling drink I want,
I need a red drink, one
as red as raspberries.
Or perhaps blood-colored? Because
blood is life.
Maybe if I drink more,
it will give me life, too.

Ask nicely,
maybe I’ll offer you a cup.
If you can explain its meaning,
the whole bottle is yours, but
break it in half, so we share it.
You understand it like I do, that's why you deserve it.
If it tastes strange, drink it slowly,
if your throat's not used to it, endure it,
you’ll get used to it,
your state of mind will help you.

Maybe it intoxicates, but it gives strength,
right?
The others don’t do that,
otherwise every tavern would be full.
Its effect's eternal,
but helpful.
Its size surpasses the rest,
dominance, like from man.
Were you made by the gods?
Is that why your taste's so special?
cleo Jun 4
i've got this dark desire
but i keep it hidden locked away inside
used to drink these demons away
but it started tasting lonely
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