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it’s been years, and I still scream
halfway through the night.

I still wake up drenched in sweat and tears,
feeling his grip around my wrist.

when I take a shower,  I find myself
still trying to scrub him off me.
I’m still trying to erase the
cigarette burn on my right hand,
the one he gave me when
he was drunk and angry.

sometimes, I scrub my skin until I bleed. not intentionally, of course.
I don’t want to hurt myself.
I’ve hurt myself enough over the years,
and I have the scars to prove it.

all I want is to scrub him off of me.
I want to feel clean again.

but no matter how raw I scrub myself,
the fingerprints and bruises still linger.
Kimmy Sep 20
Be who you want
Talk to who you want
You are you
No one can stop that

My name is Kimberly
I call myself a different name
Hard drugs is who i am.
Before you ask, no
I don't care what you think
They help me ESCAPE

I consider myself different from all the rest, I'm distant, the drugs really overpower me. To me it makes me have a rush, I can **** it in a heartbeat. I know its just white powder
It makes me feel invincible, grateful for this powder while every body is against it

My nose will bleed. .my family can most likely notice the powder on my nose then I know I'm not invincible
Yet another failure on this ******* planet.
Another disapoitment,

Well I pretty much described myself . Everything gives me a rush and.....well
I've grown to love it, you can push me off a cliff
And ill do a kick off, I'm ready to ****
The tides
Ready to lose blood as I'm hitting the
Im honestly am ready for anything
Because everything possible has already happened
Im ready for the good rush
I wrote this a few years ago when I was having addiction problems. When you think all u have is that one drug to call a friend. You loose yourself in the drug. Im glad I got out
Elicia Hurst Sep 14
A summer dress, perhaps
deserves a summerish redress.

In the witching hour, solitude's domain,
there is naught but
I, and the white-hot eclipse for my eye.

I have one hand beneath your neck,
and another behind your knees.
In these gloves, I will drown and resurrect
my fair dress, one-and-only Sunday Best,
sodium hypochlorite cocktail mess.
My alternative hydrotherapy
is a remedy from my enemy.

You traffic through this well of hell in ease.
A fire drunken on the Lethe.
Deliquesce in clinical scents.

Your skin thrives on the purge,
but mine cannot survive.
Jul 2020
A silver lake.
Slake and slough and
you think
that this will surely
make you clean.
But you thought the same thing
about the tall fields of grass
that sliced your skin
in microscopic ribbons,
and made your shins itch.
What now?
Now that you have frost
coating every hair
of every crevice?
Is this purity?
Is this what you’re craving
In the first rays of sun warming my shoulders
In the crisp air that brushes my cheeks
In the colors of dawn reflecting on the water
I take a breath and feel that I too am renewing
Isabella Aug 7
I left to wash my hands today
And rid myself of the sun’s cruel rays
I walked into the strongest waves
No one saw, so I couldn’t be saved

The water rose up from my knees
Until it began to fill my cheeks
Salt in my lungs, I couldn’t breathe
And by then at last my hands were clean
Maybe after that they’d notice me
I'll reinvent myself
Doesn't mean I'm trying to be someone else
Just because you haven't seen
This side of me
It feels good, it feels clean
Even if it feels a little foreign to me
Your fingerprints aren’t all over everything
Amy I Hughes Jul 14
I can't stop cleaning
My knuckles are dry
Rivers of disinfectant fill the parched cracks of my skin
A storm in a gorge
There's too much dust
A sandstorm
I swipe it away
It comes back!
Dark grey tufts of storm clouds
That I, with my
Mighty Hand
Brush away

But it's not nothing
I know what it is

I tear the filled pages
Out of my notebook
Cast them away
They're impure
Scribbled on
Clean white pages are all I need
The purity of sacred bleach

Smell the chemicals, the cleanliness
Destroy the dust, keep order
Tear the paper, fall like rain

It's never nothing
I know what it is
When I'm emotionally blocked, I clean. I clean like I'm being paid for it.
rarae aves Jul 10
Today marks one month of sobriety.
I’m happy with myself I’m staying clean.
I’m experiencing first hand why getting clean seems like an insurmountable task,
why it’s inherently formidable.
It’s not because of the task of getting clean itself, its because of everything that’s in my face while I’m clean-
the trauma, the distressing emotions & thoughts, the self defeating conditioning. It’s all clear as day, it’s inescapable now.
I’m proud of myself for choosing to face & deal, over numb & escape.
I’m going to take one day at a time.
I aim to live everyday now.
ankles held firm
his shoulders lurch

branches loom ahead
I duck in ashen forests

'Do all Uncle says,'
Mother spat again

face is stinging
air's thinning

I'm milk-bag

he yanks
me higher


'Here we are
my sweet!'

the stiff door
creaks slowly

his treacle tone
mocks the dust

dead moths stir
in alarm


I'm flung


in me

I die


they all do it


I disappear to
holes in the wall

they watch in silence
and let me stay on

cold-blooded fire
burns red

do I live

I pray


staring out the
window I see

sifted icing
sugar peaks

my Mountain
smiles strong

sparkling clean
in warming sun

Whoever made it
is my Friend

a gift

for life


it's my

I'm two


#child #innocence #destroyed #alone #mountain #clean #strong
for some, betrayal starts early... and the body remembers... as does the mind
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