J 18h

He eroded himself like a rock into a fine powder.
Losing sight of himself.
He started to fall into the abyss of a dark tunnel.

A “Small purchase” he called it “Something to drink”
And she slowly lost sight of him as he fell into a dark chasm of sorrow.

He diluted and mixed
himself until he forgot.
He lost himself in drink and further himself from his loved ones.
He slammed doors.
The devils claws drew close .

But he was oblivious, he shouted and pushed.
But one soul reached into his heart
Showed him the error, his dilution
And he saw the light in the once dark chasm.

3.

Mommy! Mommy! I'm crying!
Jumping in the rocking chair
Baby, sit down, stop your whining.
Tearing a stranger’s underwear

Mommy! Mommy! I feel sick!
Sharp words spoken through vomit
Sweetie, would you stop your joking?
A freshly rolled joint made for smoking

Mommy! Mommy! I can't breathe!
Hysteria from the panic
Dearest, just take some pills, please.
On the drugs from the attic

Mommy! Mommy! My chest hurts!
Rapid pounding through the shirt
Honey, shut up, drink your bottle.
Alcohol straight from the nozzle

Mommy! Mommy! I'm choking!
Falling into a seizure
Darling, would you quit your moaning?
A midnight whore, all too eager

Mommy! Mommy! I'm bleeding!
The sound of terrified weeping
Sweetheart, all you need is some sleep.
Gone too high on amphetamines

Mommy! Mommy! I'm dying!
Skin starting to change color
Baby, lay down, stop your whining.
Forgetting to be a mother.

When my friends think about drinking they see parties, and wild nights, and crazy hangovers

And when I tell them I never plan on letting a sip of alcohol touch my lips, they're scandalized

Because they don't understand

How could they ever?

When I think of drinking, I think of my mom passed out underneath our Christmas tree

Or my dad swerving down side streets with the smell of whiskey wafting off of him like smoke from a campfire

I see my childhood that came crashing down in front of my eyes

I see something that they will never understand

There was a time where I relished his drunk touch.

The feeling on the dance floor,
Of his lips on mine,
His hands on my waist.

I felt power from his touch.
It affirmed what I wanted to feel-

I wanted to feel beautiful,
                            dangerous,
                             fierce.
I believed for a while that his drunk attention proved these things to be true.

Now I know differently.
Now that our drunk love has burned out,
I understand I am the only one who can make these things true.

I will no longer find power in drunk love.
I will find power in myself.

Bre Dec 8

This is not a poem about sexual assault.

This is not a poem about you taking everything from me.

This is not a poem about you taking the little girl I was once and forcing her to see how terrible the world can truly be.

This is not a poem about you taking my 4.0 GPA and shoving it under your bed with the remnants of my underwear.

This is not a poem about you taking the comfort out of physical affection.

This is not a poem about you pretending not to hear me when I begged you to stop.

This is not a poem about me pretending to fall asleep so I could pretend like I didn't remember it happened again.

This is not a poem about you blaming the alcohol.

This is not a poem about you blaming me.

This is not a poem.

Hey guys! I would appreciate any constructive criticism for this poem! . Thanks in advance, have a wonderful day!
Ophelia O Dec 7

one day a bottle
won't be my gatekeeper
and I will find you

lover

with trusting

touch

replacing him on me
and I will think of you
inside, within me

I don’t use it to escape
or make the pain go away
or to numb my feelings

it’s frowned upon by most,
some find it deadening
and others to be fatal
but I find myself crossing
swords with the few who
are brave enough....

its the fuel,
the self medication
that makes me feel
alive and goes
hand in hand
with my writing
and my daily life

it gives me the answers
that fit in with the questions
that so many people yearn for

while they sip on their
coffee and tea and
write poems about
skittles and unicorns
in their fantasy land
that doesn’t exist,

I write
what I see,
think and
feel is to be true
and real in this
maddening world

anybody can play
the protagonist
but it takes guts
to play the fool
stepping in the
wrong direction
in life and to be
deceived by those
who are on the
outside looking in

I have no use
to sugarcoat
anything.
I am here,
naked,
in a crowd full
of clothed people
with nothing to hide
except my face
behind a beard.

I am the disease,
the leper,
the conformist,
the cancer of society,
cells reproducing and I’m
eating up all your resources
with no logic or reasoning.

sober Rick,
when hungover,
will thank
drunk Rick
tomorrow morning
when he finds out
that he made a lunch
for him and didn’t lose
his car keys

his drive to work will
be more peaceful
and the food on his
lunch break will taste
more delicious
than those he’s
surrounded by.

bend over world
and deal with it,

I’m a drunk
in moderation
without any regrets

so
pour
me
another  
mother
nature

The people who scold me for drinking sometimes are the ones who inspire me. I don’t have a drinking problem, I drink just fine.
Tate Dec 5

I want to blame this feeling
This tongue tied nausea inside me
On the alcohol
On this hangover
But a small part of me
The same part that told me
To put the shots down
And that beer is a bad chaser
Whispers that maybe it’s not the hangover at all

Maybe I have a flesh eating virus
Or a tape worm
Maybe it’s kinda like that but kinda not
Like maybe my regrets are eating me alive
From the inside out
Maybe there is a parasite in me
Or perhaps I am said parasite.

My failures cascade down my flesh
Wondering, will you make me whole again?
I don’t even care to try
Better to clutch this bottle and
Let the amber hit my throat
Better to soak my suffering in brown
And let the sweet haze take over me

I feel you festering in my throat
Searing my lungs
Living in the moment, I inhale my self-destruction,
Casually chasing my own death
But you give me more warmth than they ever do,
Your toxicity on my tongue
Tastes so much better than their words

Eyelids flutter,
Tonight I am alive.

Sometimes the vices make life easier to cope with. If you have any thoughts about this piece or any strong synonyms for "suffering" and "self-destruction", I'd love to hear them!
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