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Anna 1d
Life only gets harder,
The more we blink away,
The more seconds pass and we don't even see.

Writing becomes tougher,
Breathing seems less automatic,
And the alcohol just doesn't taste the same.

Happy birthday songs sounds sadder,
And the wishes we do away blowing the candles,
Are only attempts to escape reality.

I wrote about you once upon a time, when I didn’t have the greatest ability to rhyme.

With you or even with my words but you didn’t care, but frankly you never knew.

When I was writing poems about you and everything new, I didn’t tell for you probably would have told me it was silly.

Just like I was when I let you break my heart for the first time, and I welcomed you back without a second thought.

But who am I kidding, I thought about it everyday, the way you had told me you thought she was the most attractive girl, your “ideal” type.

Next thing I know you fell into your self-made hype, and put your lips and hands on her skin the way you did mine.

The love for you would still shine.

It would shine in my eyes until I saw her, I would bury the knowledge down and swallow my frown. And then I’d see her.

Eventually all was forgiven but not really

You went to college, deep down I knew it was going to happen, but I really held on to the hope that you wouldn’t do that to me again cause you saw how bad it hurt me to begin with.
But you did it once and you did it twice.

for months I was downing shot after shot, I get drunk and have a hangover that hurt almost as bad as the heartbreak that continued to shake.

It continued to shake my armor, the one I worked so hard to make and just like that it was gone.

Three months, I don’t remember any of it, but I know during those three months, I remembered all of it. All of us.


We were bestfriends once upon a time when I couldn’t rhyme, not with you, not with me

But now I’m free
Empire 5d
Alcohol is the embrace I lack tonight
Warming my skin
Calming my nerves
Soothing my soul
As I forget my loneliness
(Which makes itself more apparent as of late)
A little peace
For a little while
Just lull me to sleep
In your sweet, easy comfort
Esther 7d
sitting outside in the autumn air
rolling one last cigarette
every night without a single worry

big sur moon my only friend
memories flowing back
drowning my senses in liquor and regret.
inspired by a conversation with Sam.
When I was five
I watched my father drink  
until his cheeks were rosy pink
but I didn’t think anything of  
it as he playfully chased me on my bike
on a warm August evening.  
The lower the sun sank into the earth,
the more Budweiser cans would open  
and my mother would turn a blind eye
so I couldn’t tell how tired and solemn she looked
until I was sixteen and I noticed they didn’t talk anymore.
My father couldn’t look at me when he asked how my day was,
pouring another can of beer into a glass
and the foam poured over the rim  
just like my anger and pure resentment
for the man who used to make me laugh until I cried
and now the tears soon flowed for different reasons. .  
My parent’s relationship crumbled as did my heart  
as I watched my father’s alcohol intake increase  
and the love I thought he had for me vanish.  

“Remember when you cried when I got my driver’s license?”
I was ignored as he swirled beer around in his glass.  
“Do you still care? Don’t blame this on me.”
A simple text he sent
to his own daughter  
“I never want to see you again.”
Deep in the core of my being resided a hatred  
for a sorry human being who dared to call himself a man
once his true feelings revealed themselves.  
Soon I was twenty five and I found myself still wondering
why I was blamed for his own disease  
and I realized I could be as boiling angry, hurt, and confused  
and clench my fists until they burned just hearing his name
it just wouldn’t change anything.  
He has become a floating memory creeping
deeper and deeper  
in the back of my mind  
drowning in liquor until he completely fades.
It's been years since I've seen or spoke to you.
Mitch Prax Sep 9
Shakira on the radio,
a gin and tonic or maybe four.
The night is young, baby,
and we aren't
getting any older.
When I was an
ideal and dreamy teenager walking amidst the
trees in the backyard,
there, curled up beneath a pine, I discovered a small creature and stared at it.
I gently picked it up and held it to
my chest.
It opened its eyes.
I felt The power within .
It went back to sleep,
and I set it down.

The next morning
when I walked
out the back door,
headed for school,
the little creature
was sitting there,
wide awake,
looking up at me.
It had the most
unreal looking eyes.
They seemed to change color.
Apart from English and art class, I hated school.
I didn't quite fit in .
I had good friends,
but I always felt lonely.
Bouts of melancholia struck me at the strangest times,
soon after, I found
it to be the
terminal affliction of being a poet.

I stayed home from school that day and played with the
It seemed to
hear me, almost understand me.
I liked the feeling.
it became my
best friend.

I fed it every day
and it grew and became unruly and hard to control at times, but overall, it caused me much more joy than pain, way back then.
I missed it when it
was gone,
and threw my arms around it when it
came home.
I named it buffer
because it was an equalizer for me,
and the world, and pain,
It went inbetween the sharpness and vividness, in which I didn't know how to cope.

It got big
and became
a beast.
I had a love / hate relationship with
the thing.
I sacrificed a lot
for it at the
altar of idolatry.
It wouldn't let anyone get close to me,
My wife, my kids,
I chased them
all away.
I was alone with
the beast.

After years of
pain and degradation,
I put the beast down.
I shot it in
the back of the
head, like a rabid dog.

Life raged on.
Pain and joy came with equal measure,
but I no longer
needed a buffer to
keep living, laughing, and learning.
I finally figured
out how to
truly love.
As many of you know, I've struggled with addiction for years. This is a poem about the struggle and the power of addiction.
The last few nights
You've been in my dreams
You were my protector
Or so it seemed
In real life and all reality
Me you did demean
Your love is a tragity
The truth has hit like gravity
You are the man of many dreams
Unfortunately you and me can not be
It is written in the stars
This is not our destiny
Nearing addict
status; once spurned pure black
but now it’s my composition.

my thoughts;
next round is scotch:
Next, I’m alcoholic.
Yet, withdrawal never latches.
I’m safe.
Two Cinquains. Describes how I overindulge in coffee (I once couldn't stand the taste of black coffee and now I can't get enough of it) and I fear that alcohol will do the same to me (I don't like the taste of it but maybe I'll love it too much like I do coffee). Yet, even with coffee, I can drink heavy amounts of it for days and be completely fine (not experience withdrawal symptoms).
So with my anxious thoughts, they seem like they will stick with me forever but in the end, I'll be fine.
Derrick Cox Sep 2
Everyone! Everybody!
If you all could shut the hell up
For a just one sec,
I like to propose a toast.

I’m the designated driver to my friends
when they can’t make it home
I’m everybody’s therapist
really good to talk to
without questions or judgement.
I’m the priest you confess your sins to
because you’re desperate for forgiveness
or afraid to have a one-on-one with God.
I’m often asked how I’m so lit
without any refreshments.

I’m clear as *****.
I don’t need anything extra
to tell the truth
to have a good time
to say yes or no.

I can dance my *** off
and remember last night was dope.
The morning after
I grab my bottle of *****
drinking my issues, blessings, and my fun.
Sweet as honey going down.

So, if you think I’m lame
I’m actually quite the energy ball.
If you think I’m better than you
get your head out of your ***.
At least I don’t act like a fool.
You think I can’t hang with you.
No. Don’t get the **** twisted;
You can’t hang with me
if shrinking your liver
And burning your lungs like paper
is the only thing on your agenda.

I know you have cancer.
I have cancer too.
We all have it.
And it *****.

So we take our meds
to treat the symptoms;
to feel better
to feel like we’re one step closer
to curing the illness
To feel like everything is going to be alright
even when it’s not gonna be.

The difference between you and me
is that I take the shots
the bartender AKA life
pours into my glass.
I drink
and it’s sweet as honey going down.
Clear as *****.

But please! By all means,
drink what’s in your glass.
Light that **** up.
Just leave me
and my tall bottle of ***** alone.

Because I am about to get
shaken and stirred
until I fall the **** out.

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