******* tilt his head
And inspect pupils too large
And breaths to shallow
******* scoop *****
And rot out of his mouth
While he lays there immobile
******* dial 911
While he spews hatred
For you, his rescuer
His family, his only friend
******* turn a key
Locking a door for the last time
Leaving you behind.

Open a can in front of her
and then ask her why
she flinches
at the sound.

Ask her why
the mere scent of beer
coaxes stomach acid up
her throat.

Go on, ask her why
her childhood memories
are tainted
by an alcoholic fog.

Ask her why 'father'
is a six letter word,
and each letter
is holding a 30-pack of misery.

-db

"Raise your hand if you're messed up".
That's what I heard but not what they said.
My hand slowly rises and they grin.
Fresh meat.
Then they proceed with uncanny resemblance to TV.

State your name, to be added to the menu.
They want more details, er ingredients.
Their eyes are locked, watching for golden brown.
Lapping lips, heads droopy and bobbing,
The blood in my neck runs cold and then clotting,

****.
This place is over-*******-flowing with vulnerability vultures.
My fight or flight kicks in and I become needlessly angry.
Why the hell am I here?
He's not my problem anymore.
Why the hell am I mad?
He's not my problem anymore.

But I sit and I listen to the  man on my right.
He shields his eyes and I know why.
The longer you sit, the longer they glare,
The longer they hope your gaze transforms
Into yet another hungry vulture's stare.

The excitement
of getting drunk
left me, but
I still drink daily.
Out of control?
Very possible.
Going to change it?
Probably not.
-JRM

I have some good memories of you
From when I was younger.

I remember the times
You'd bring me fishing,
You taught me how to cast.
I'd always hoped to catch
A fish as big as a shark.


I remember how you'd
Always make me laugh.
Especially when you'd start
Laughing really hard because
Your laugh is contagious.

I remember being called
"Daddy's little girl" because
I'd always wanna be with you.

And I remember wanting to go to
The bar with you when you went.

The bar,
Where you'd go to drink
And occasionally smoke cigarettes with friends.


I didn't understand it back then.


But now,
I have new memories of you.


I remember the times where
I was terrified to die
While you were behind the wheel.
When you accelerated faster on the highway,
I'd laugh in fear as I held in the tears
And prayed to God to get home safe.
Then you'd swerve.
Sometimes purposely for fun,
Sometimes just because you're drunk.


I remember the time
You fell backwards onto the floor
Because you were so drunk
That you couldn't even keep your balance.
You could've fallen down the stairs
Which was just in the other direction.
I could've lost you that day.


I remember the time you
Smoked **** inside a friends car outside the bar
During my confirmation party last year.


I remember those two Christmases
And those two birthdays that
You ruined for me two years in a row.


I remember the time when
You blurted out to my godfather that
I had cut and starved myself as if it were a news story.
Did you ever stop and think that
Maybe you're part of the reason why I did it?


I remember the time
You grabbed a trash bag and
Started to put all your clothes in it
While threatening to leave.
But It's like you're never there anyways
So what's the difference?


Then last night you said something to me
That tore my heart into pieces as if it were paper.
You were mad at Mom for something
That was most likely your fault.
You said,
“I'm gonna save up all my money
And to hell with her!”


Then I did the same thing as always.
Go into my room.
Close the door and lock it.
Turn up the music.
And cry.


Sometimes I’d wish I was a child again
Just so I wouldn't be able to understand,
So it wouldn't hurt as bad.


You know,
You said you'd die at 40 but look, you're 41.
So maybe that's God giving you a chance to change.
But God has given you too many chances,
I have given you too many chances,
We have all given you way too many chances.


A part of me wants you to know that I wrote this
So you could maybe realise how much it hurts.
But the other part of me knows that
You'll just look away and laugh
Like it doesn't mean anything.


Just like you always do.


-Cynthia Medeiros

For the longest time
I've had this romanticized view of lonesome drinking
I picture someone slowly zippin on a drink
and smoking sophistically
in a dull light
while writing great poetry

But when I've finished my 12th beer
and my 28th cigarette
in a dull light
And the only thing I've written
is something ****** like this

that romantic view is dead

Still I know
that tomorrow
Once my hangover is gone
I will do it all over again

when you finally
hit rock bottom
you won't see me
when you look up
one more chance
one more hope
another play as your savior

you won't see me
because i was the only one
who tried to prevent
your fall

i’m wearing malbec lipstick at 330 in the afternoon, my own personal hue that stains lips and teeth, drips down my chin so a tongue flicks out to savor the drop. it leaves a maroon trace like i’ve been ******* blood.
when i swill the wine, it captivates me. like i'm swishing around my own blood, praying enough of it sloshes out to **** me.
i’m headed to catholic church in an hour, maybe i’ll light a candle for myself.
god knows i ******* need it.
i’m at that delicate lining, the in-between stage of the five stages of grief. the soft spot at the base of my skull. self-destruct button that’s so tempting, nestled between anger and depression. skip bargaining. take a trip around the sun.
i've lost my hair tie and i want it back.
i've lost my heart and i want it back. ******* give it back.
reapply mauve lipstick the flavor of malbec. go to church. rinse the good off when you get home.
i still feel him inside of me. taking everything. claiming it as his own, two hundred and fifty-eight hours later. like he’s stained me and now i'm tainted and unapproachable. undesirable.
piece of plastic wrap that used to keep his heart fresh, now i'm trash.
now i’m his.