Without ice
A double whiskey
It goes down nice
Feel the fire
That gentle heat
And keep it neat

A shot of whiskey
It's warm
not hot
You feel the fire
The bunring linger
Feel the fire
From one shot

You start out drinking
To kill the pain
You order one more up
The burning feeling
Inside your chest
You're still coherent
You're at you best passes
Years go by
The fire's burning
You're gonna die
That burning feeling
Can't put it out
You move from whiskey
On back to stout

You can not stop it
The fire rules
Your eye's are red now
Red, runny pools
What once was pleasant
Now burns with pain
You can not stop it

You keep consuming
It's who you are
Half a bottle gone
You've gone too far
You can not taste it
You can not win
You can not put out
The Fire Within.
It's far from homely
Odour of something
Don't know what.
Kick crushed cans
Envelopes of late payments:
cant afford them.
Shove them aside
Drag thumbs over
The chipped controller
The tinny TV
The low-res game.
Grab a stranger
One night stand
Clinging to their skin.
Chafed and blotchy
Pretty scrawny
No one cares.
Use them
Like they are using you
To escape the drag
That is this existence.
Leave them in silence
Belt buckle done up
Hiss goes the beer can
Take a swig.
Back tomorrow
To the grind
Splash face
With water
Fumble sleepily
With the nylon tie
And crawl through
Another day.
I decided to be blunt and honest, hooray.
One more hit is all I need
Then I promise I am done.
For without it reality
Really does weighs a tonne.
Crushing my ribcage
Which used to home roses
But now is bruised
From fists, He stands amused
As he puts his
Hands back around my neck
Without even looking to check
If marks are visible this time.
He is long past caring
My body no longer unsparing
For he has destroyed each part
Making me look like a childs colour chart.
Maybe I am to blame
For why he torments my fragile frame.
One more hit to numb my pain
Though these thoughts I can never tame
In my new found biological remedy
As I blackout I find my serenity
Longing for a new identity
For my body is an empty shell
Storing secrets I will never tell
For fears the words will only spill out.
So I sew my lips together
As my skin looks like worn leather.
When I finally come back through
My body is an array of black, purple and blue.
I take my final hit
Hoping finally this might be it
As the world before me turns to grey.
For now is my time
As I leave the wind chimes
Bringing me into a brand new day.
November 19th 2009
Marks the day I saw your spine
Hit the floor for the very first time
I only need people when I think I do
I was a fool to think I needed you
It’s the opposite of The Decemberists
You needed me to make you better
I blame myself for trying-
And every time I walk in on you crying
I think it’s something I did wrong
The smell of your breath is still strong
In the dreams I fail to dream as I watch what I once thought was steam sneak through your bedroom door
I can still smell those chemical dreams as I do the leaves on that cold november day
I found you lying in the den
You were going to die I just didn’t know when
I can see the red and blue flashing
It’s making my innocence fade like flash photography in a museum
Why can’t my life be preserved  with a sign that says please don’t do this
Too many signs for too many crimes
I’d need one for each mistake you made
I’d add another check to the chalkboard and remember my neck double wrapped around the umbilical chord
I wonder if you loved me then but I remember that you didn’t
Cause every time I try to read a book I look at the letters and they turn into something they are not
Just like us when you’re drunk and I’m smoking pot
I remember you never loved me at my monthly sonogram
Holes in my kidneys not quite as big as the holes in your heart
I was fucked over from the start
4 pounds and 11 ounces I could never stand up to you
Pretending you did what you had to do
Take another sip I dare you
Maybe it’ll make you feel brand new
And the next morning we’ll pretend it never happened because that’s what we always do
I’ll ignore the broken glass that sat on my chest as I tried to sleep and stabbed my mind as I tried to dream
About what we would be if I hadn’t found you that day in 2009
Would I still be doused in ignorance
Would I still crave your attention
Would I still be able to dream
Would I be haunted by my own retention
Would I drink a little less
Would I drink a little more
Would I still play in the leaves or believe you could be cured
You need me to make you better and it has made me worse-
I don’t throw out the shit I find in your purse-
I shove it down and swallow but innocence tends to follow

If I were 4 pounds again I’d have a stronger mind
I wouldn’t put any effort into being kind
I was so small you should’ve thrown me in the trash
I wouldn’t have to grow up in your mistakes tray of ash
I close my eyes and I’m 9 years old seeing red and blue,
8 years later and disaster still reminds me of you
The smell of salt water invokes the image of the sea shore.
The flush of red in lips makes one feel lustful.
A rocking sensation reminds one of the comfort of the womb.
But here in this bar, the sight of that Jameson bottle on the wall makes me think of nothing
But you.
Unholy you,
With one hand brushing back unruly locks,
The other fiddling with a half-empty glass,
And that look on your face
Because you know exactly what’s going through my mind,
And that green bottle perched on a shelf.
The bartender tries to hand me my gin and tonic,
But my eyes hover above her hair,
On the dim haze of a gleam on the dusty glass,
And suddenly the haze becomes hazier,
Blurry with the unexpected moisture pooling in my eyes.
Because it’s not just from you anymore,
The damn thing is a part of me,
Because I’ll never forget when you said my eyes are the color of the glass,
Your favorite bottle,
With your famous mischievous grin,
But a softer look in your eye,
So that I know what you really mean.
It’s not just that subtle bottle green color,
It’s the fact that you can’t get enough.
Drink after drink thrown back,
And just like your glass,
You throw me down,
And you say
“I’m thirsty.”
You consume me as easily as you consume whiskey,
And I’m an essence in a bottle to you.
Bought and sold,
A commodity to be replaced,
Because you’re insatiable...
But as I stand here with my eyes on that bottle,
I realize…
I don’t want to be your addiction anymore.
"your mother is an alcoholic,"
my mom jokingly said to
me one night
as she was pouring
herself another drink.

as a kid,
i didn't understand alcohol
or my mother's drinking habits.
she always seemed fine to me,
or at least pretended to be.

i didn't think anything
of the late nights,
or the excuses she sometimes

i smiled at her
and pretending i wasn't
actually worrying inside.
my mother was strong,
she was tough,
and i wasn't one
to criticize her drinking.

and while she said
those words as a
lighthearted joke,
i don't think she realized
i sometimes worried
for my future
and whether my
drinking habits
would hurt me
down the line.

i didn't want
to have to drink
to the bottom of the
bottle to feel something.

nor did i want to have
to drink to escape my reality.

it's a little twisted
and i'm not sure
when things got like this.

and the culture of college
doesn't help people like
me much.

"take another shot"
i take it to ease
the pain,
but i know in
the morning,
it won't make a difference,
i'll still feel the same.

ounces of alcohol,
stumbling legs,
loose smiles,
but things aren't
really what they seem.

i don't have to be
my mother's drinking habits,
pouring a glass each night
after work.

but how much
control do i actually have?
because i already feel
as if i'm spiraling
out of control.
The beer dried my tears

Number Seven
Eight .   ?
                 e  ?
Who even cares...

The last rays of light on the brick
On the porch
Me and the teak wood
Wiping my tears with my sweet beers
I stand in lines
and wait for better times.
The sun shines,
We suck on limes,
tequila on our minds.

There are all kinds.

So I pass out my dimes
to pay for the goddamn fines,
as we listen to the chimes
and the pretty, pretty rhymes.

Yes, I have been wined and dined,
but I have also been worked to a grind.
I'm no mastermind,
but I have tried hard to align
the faults of the self
with the faults of the rest.
I kissed your lips laced with alcohol
and tasted the sweet sensation of
Nothingness and Regret.
The everlasting touch
that would release me from you.
Yet for some odd reason,
I still wanted more.
Sanny 3d
Shaking on the bathroom floor.

Mascara running down my cheeks.

The smell of alcohol on my breath.

Cold sweat.

I can't move.


I am one with my anxiety.

Same words echoing in my head.

"He's back".
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