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Sian Rogers Oct 6
She found him
Darkness and despair surrounding
The colour gone from his cheeks
Nothing left for him to seek
Whisky on the table
A beer in his hand
She kissed him gently
And he buried his head in the sand
Jon Thenes Oct 4

with more heat than light
more feast, than a violence
we found a clamour


drunk tank, we tackled
battered at one and the other
we mashed in pleasing


we dedicated
fractured time manufactured
sot saturated


misfunctional us
trussed ; brace pinned neat by the heels
whatever be, come


the floor-riding fits
upturned, revealing sickness
now observed and prone

hold hands

treated far apart
separate medical cots
in damage we bed
Brad post Sep 28
This ****’s been going on,
for far too long.
It took me talking to him,
to know something was wrong.

It started as a whisper,
so quiet and weak.
I could force it to silence,
without having to speak.

Then my mind and body,
started to waste.
He started to gorge,
and fell in love with the taste.

My slow decline,
was the foothold he needed,
and his tendrils grew,
where I didn’t know they were seeded.

His control grew bigger,
till it shadowed my mind,
and the whiskey fog I was in,
had simply turned me blind.

Then one day I was through,
enough was enough.
I was going to take control,
I had to be tough.

That was the first time,
that he spoke to me,
and that “no” was enough,
to finally make me see.

I tried and I tried,
again and again,
crying through his laughter,
trying to pour him out through a pen.

He was poison,
like a cancer you see.
He was killing us both,
but everyone just blamed me.

Then one day I realized,
I couldn’t get rid of that voice.
To do that meant death,
and that wasn’t a choice.

He’s a part of me,
but disconnected too.
A bystander to the hell,
that he’s putting me through.

Now every day is a struggle,
to quiet his voice.
Trying to convince myself,
that I do have a choice.

So he’s here to stay,
the monkey on my back.
The ominous stranger,
who calls himself, Jack.
We all have that voice, some are stronger than others.
Caitlin Sep 27
If only daughter knew how much her mother loves her. If only mother knew how to express that to her.

If only daughter knew how much father loves her. If only he'd address that to her.

But father broke mothers’ heart in two with broken promises and bottle caps too.

A bottle for pleasure a bottle for pain, it wasn’t long before mother and father drank again.

There’s never any harm they said in just one or two. But daughter knew three and four were coming all too soon.

Daughter felt confused as to why mother would drink what split her parents in two. Would the bottle come between her and mother too?

Daughter couldn’t fathom how father could do this. The family unit daughter surely missed.

Father had been quite angry now for some time. Daughter didn’t know why he sometimes dulled her shine.

Mother was no longer sure what to do to keep her mind at peace. How would she fix the shattered heart that had broken first in two, then slowly piece by piece?

Daughter at times wondered the same, how could she make mothers heart whole again. But she lost hope for some time, had words stuck bouncing back and forth in her mind that she wanted to say so badly. She wanted to scream so loudly.

But her parents ears had been cut off by a blade of sorrow, anger and stress. Daughter began to quickly regress. Withdrawal. No binge would rid her of the pain at all, and now daughter is confused too. She often feels as if her only friends are her journal and the moon.

She tries to keep her darkness at bay, a mess at night, a peach by day. She is successful for a short time until the darkness she carried overpowered her shine and she knew this was not who she was supposed to be. How would she rediscover her divinity?

Long story short, she soul searched far and wide and began to forgive herself for letting the darkness inside.

Soon enough she forgave mother and father too and now she wishes that they knew how much she loves them too.
Mitch Prax Sep 24
When some days
are not so bad as others
but you’re still drinking
and miserable.
The inching hatred
of who you are
but not what you’ve done-
that’s depression.
bess Sep 16
When I was a child

I thought
all my pain
would fade away
with age.

They say,
“you once dreamed
of being where you are now.”

And I did. I prayed
for time that
would take away my hurt.
I ached for identity
in the form of adulthood.

I once dreamed
of being where I am now,
but my dreams
were nothing like
Francie Lynch Sep 14
Its commensal, at best,
This house fly of a guest;
Who frequents your home,
Alits on a chair,
Rubbing its hands together.
It shows no regrets,
Feeding, slurping and buzzing,
With a self-made bequest.
I can tolerate a bar fly;
A barn fly, a sty fly;
I've the guzzler bottle fly,
That plunders my fridge,
Swarms over my beer
Like a blood-thirsty midge.
He's a house fly,
And ignorant,
So fly paper won't do.
I need SWAT to shoo
This house fly adieu.
Do you have a house fly?
jeristorms Sep 13
Pad and pen,
here are Casey’s thoughts again...

Driving down the highway, Jason is strapped in because Casey’s in denial again. She doesn’t want to lose her little one.

Wake up Casey, you’re dreaming. He’s gone.
You drove under the influence.
What’s wrong with you?  
This is what you get. He’s never coming back.

Driving silent like a mime with its mouth sewn shut.
You’re just like a mime, living in a black and white world.
You’re gray matter Case.
You’re a nut-case.
Where’d you put your straight jacket?

You hit your brakes to assure Jason will be safe.
Convinced that at every intersection there’s a conspiracy against you,
sure to get hit.

But Casey, it’s too late. This is what you get.
He’s never coming back.

Why’d you have to reach for more?

Lock her up.
Strap her in.

Casey's off the deep end... again.
Mentally ill.
You sip on self pity
Now that wine has been vanquished from the house.
Bitter insults leaving your tongue
Like the smell of alcohol on your breath
As you pinned me to the mattress all those nights ago.
You accuse me of being like the rest,
Always leaving you in your worst moments.
Never had I questioned why they left.
You tell me to run,
For you only abuse those you love.
I had thought that your overcritical mind was exaggerating.
I wish I had seen those for what they were,
A warning,
Not some misplaced self hatred.
It is proof of my love that you seek,
The thrill of me chasing you as you degrade and run away
That fuels your affection for me.
You ask me to tell you I love you.
You ask me to assure you I will never leave.
You want me to beg you to stay.
I cannot.
I once loved you.
I am leaving you.
There will be no need when I am done.
bess Sep 9
I’ve only yelled at you once
In the pouring rain
Under the light of the moon

I remember screaming so loud I thou
But you don’t even remember
How could you?

You were blinded by a bottle
That you cared about more than me
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