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I want to get drunk one last time
Just to know what I would say
Intoxicated words come out so much easier
Than trying it the sober way
I want to tell him I love him
I want to tell the truth
I want to feel like everything is acceptable
I want to talk to you
I want an excuse to come clean
About everything I have felt
From love to hate
to anger to lust
to that time I wanted to **** myself
I want to share things I am too scared to share
I want to hold him tight
I want to thank you for breaking my heart
I want to share incredibly sad things in the dead of the night
I want to be brave
I want to talk a lot
I want someone to listen
And not just laugh it off
I want to get drunk
So I can be who I truly am
But alcohol is bad
And I am clean
So I will filter these thoughts for now
They will only hurt you as much as you let them.

And when you want to tear your veins out from frustration,

You must remember to channel that anger into forgiveness.

But don't forget,

They will never love you as much as they love their fix.
Limping through loneliness
Existing in a reality that is wholly mine
Living only for death
Following the beam just outside humankind
Answering to no one
Knowing you wouldn't answer my call
Dying to live
Dying to escape from it all
Gasping for breath
Pushing a life rigid steel and cold
Pray for answers
Resenting God for putting me on hold
Mumbling to the four winds
Passing cars invite salvation
Plodding ever aimlessly
Resisting my suicidal ideation
Stroking yellowed beard
Sweating inside layers stained and rotten
Drinking pain away
Realizing I'm simply, sadly forgotten
Anna Skinner Feb 2015
Life through bloodshot eyes
where lovers and needles
intertwine
into railway veins on tile floors
where hands curl around the glass
swan necks
of everlasting empty bottles,
victims of
a red wine lullaby
The Good Pussy Feb 2015
.
                                    D
                         ­  o     o  w      o
                       w        n  D          w
                      n             o              n
                     D             w               D
                     o              n                o
                     w          D     o           w
                      n         w      n          n
                       D         D     o          D
                        o          w  n          o
                           w        D         w
                               n     o      n
                                      w
                                       n
Felicity Smoak Feb 2015
father: n. a man who gives care and protection to someone or something.



The last time I saw you, really saw you,
You told me you loved me.
But you didn't mean it.
At least not like you used to. Like you used to pretend to.
Before your other two kids were born.

I guess I must have been a mistake.
An unplanned middle child.
One that you didn't want.
I came after your first, before your third and fourth.
I am my least favourite number.
Is that why it took you two years to say "I love you"?

I can not even remember how those words sound when crafted in your voice.
Unless they were hiding tension.
Or guilt.
Or obligation.
I never heard them for what they mean.
Your excuse was always:
Mom was watching, and you needed to look like a man.
The police guards were watching, and you needed to look like a man.
Your fellow inmates were watching, and you needed to look like a man.
Your other women were watching, and you needed to look like a man.
Your job wasn't to look like a man.
It wasn't to be a man.
It wasn't to sound like a man, think like a man, portray a man.
Your job was to be a father, to love me and make it known that I am your daughter and you are proud of me, even if you never show it. Or even say it.

I expected that from you. I expected you to know I was going to one day become something you were proud of, something you could say to make people think differently about you, because you raised  me to your standards and look how I came out. I expected you to show me what it's like to have a life, I expected you to teach me how to drive, I expected you to help me with homework, and pick me up from school, and
I expected you to care about who I am as a person, because I am your daughter.

Instead, you taught me that when I'm angry, upset, frustrated, confused, stressed, unhappy, depressed, content, or feeling any emotion whatsoever, I should run to alcohol and drink until I can feel nothing.

Instead, you taught me that you didn't care if I carved words into my skin, as long as I wasn't hurting anyone else I was fine and even if I did commit suicide it would be selfish and I shouldn't be scared of the demons in my head because they can't hurt me, they're trapped inside and they have no way to break the walls and besides being scared of yourself makes you a coward and a ***** and that's ridiculous.

Instead, you taught me that crying never gets me anywhere and if I wanted something I should just take it because no one will ever know it was me and no one will ever suspect a blonde girl in a dress to steal from a shop and as long as I look as innocent as I can then I can get whatever I need without ever paying for it because I can pay with my innocence.

Instead, you taught me that when you are drinking is the only time you will ever be proud of me for the one line in the play I landed and that even though you were never there to see it you knew I did good because I'm your daughter but even though I messed up because I looked into the crowd to find your face and forgot my line when I saw my mother with an empty seat beside her, I am still part of your family and we are good at saying things we don't mean and leaving.

Instead, you taught me that my sister will always be better than me and there is nothing I do to compete because even if I was stronger than her I would always be too small to fight her even if it was for self defense and if I try it and end up with a black eye it was my fault because I was warned of the cyclone of rage that lived within her chest and I should have known I did not stand a chance against her for she is better than me in every way.

Instead, you taught me that spending a day out in the sun working on your truck and sweating all over the ground and accidentally spilling your beer all over you which made the grass stick to you which you hated because you hate grass was better than spending a day with me inside watching movies and eating ice cream in the air conditioning with the dogs laying on my lap and cuddling with me because they know that if they did not do so I would be alone.

Instead, you taught me that I was worthless and didn't deserve love because who could ever love someone with a body full of scars and stretchmarks make you ugly because you were not born with those lines on your body, they got there because you put them there, you wanted them there so you can suffer the consequences of your own actions.

I taught myself what it's meant to be alive. I taught myself how to drive. When I didn't know how to do my homework, I didn't do it. I ride the bus home from school because no one cares enough to come pick me up and

I am the only one who cares about who I am as a person because I was taught at an early age that I am the only one I can rely on.

Where were you when I wanted you to come see the plays I was in?
Absent. "I don't like plays."
What about the guard shows?
Absent. "I don't like guard shows."
What about my marching shows?
Absent. "I don't like marching bands."

All of this is sickening.
The most sickening of all,
Is knowing that you expect me to love you even after all the **** you put me through,
like nothing
ever
happened.

But it did.
And every time I look at you,
I see hurt
pain
rejection
loss
death
addiction
abandonment
why have you made it a habit to prove to me how much you hate me?

You're supposed to be my father,
but you don't fit the definition.

f.m.s.
I hope one day you see this and cry yourself to sleep like I did for many nights after you left and came back and left and came back. I hope you hate yourself and burn in hell for what you have done to me. I'm 16, I shouldn't have this much baggage and regret. Thanks though, I'm a much better person than you'll ever be.
Fallen Angel Feb 2015
Mr. Know It All
Who do you think you are?
You speak like you know everything
when it’s obvious you know nothing.
You act like you’re some kind of genius
but all you are is a freaking alcoholic.

Mr. Know It All
You seem to think you’re Christopher Langan
the man considered to be the smartest in America.
In high school he taught himself things
such as
advanced math, physics, philosophy, Latin and Greek
he allegedly got 100% on his SAT.

Mr. Know It All
What were your accomplishments?
You dropped out of high school your senior year
You started smoking and drinking when you were 15.
You led one daughter to suicide
and you treat the other like she’s an idiot.

Mr. Know It All
Are you Kim Ung-Yong in your mind?
He could read
Korean, Japanese, English and German
by the time he was three.
Moved to America to work at NASA
when he was eight.

Mr Know It All
You’re forty-four
and you can’t even speak one other language
let alone four.
You’ve never worked at NASA
you work in a warehouse.

Mr. Know It All
You are not a genius
you are an alcoholic
you have little accomplishments
and the tragedies you cause out weigh
them by tons.

Mr. Know It All
Give up and shut up
we don’t want to hear it.
Stop drinking
you’re quieter when you’re sober
and we like the quiet.

Mr. Know it All*
The words coming from your mouth
are not intelligent,
and I’m done listening to them.
Goodbye and have a great life.
Just ugh
Sarah Gammon Feb 2015
I can't say I don't want a drink when I think of you
because already I am itching for a shot, or two.
I can't hear your name without turning a red hue;
my fists ball in anger with the mentioning, too.

How could you do the things that you did to me?
How could I have let those things come to be?
Now every day I am haunted by your evil memory,
remembering over again, your fists coming at me.

My hands are shaking; I need to take these shots,
tequila to the brain is how I stop the thoughts.
I wish I had done something so you got caught,
but a lack of courage means I never fought.

If I could **** one person in this great big land
and not get in trouble for having had it planned,
without a second thought, you'd be under my hand,
and when I'm done with you, you would not stand.

No one should be allowed to do what you've done,
and laugh about it, like it was the most fun.
You made me scared, so all I did eventually, was run,
which leaves you out there, free, so basically, you won.

I am empathetic beyond reason, because I felt for you,
understanding rage was a disease that controlled you.
I wanted to help, to save and redeem your soul, too,
but you aren't just sick with rage, you enjoy it; it's true.

I may have ****** up and not reported your ***,
and drive myself to drink to forget this past,
but let it be known, I'm normally as still as glass,
but if I ever see you again, that moment will be your last.
Copyright Sarah Gammon 2015
Arnav Sharma Feb 2015
for most of the scholars, the future is the stressor
SATs, ACTs, grades, extracurriculars, college apps, jobs
when given notice, anyone can prepare for and deal with a challenge
when one's worries consist only of the future, one is blessed, not cursed
when life is "how can I get through this" instead of "how will I get through that"
it's a problem.

best math student in the school, but he still can't solve the everyday problem
mom dad divorce boyfriend alcoholism violence lawsuits counseling
too many terms, it's unfactorable, it's unfair, this wasn't in the textbook now it's on the test and I can't get a 100
I thought being perfect was the only way?
the title is a bit of wordplay on present tense and tension (in the home).
basically the poem is me expressing frustration about what goes on at home. more poems to come I guess.
Matthew Harlovic Feb 2015
You told me that if you drink
before 10 A.M. you were a pirate
not an alcoholic.
But pirates don’t drive,
they sail.
They smoothly sail.
And as the Captain,
abiding by the code,
you went down with your ship
but then again,
you washed up in a jail cell.

© Matthew Harlovic
Don't drink and drive, kids.
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