When I was
younger,
I had to learn.
Sit and wait to
write.
I  would get
impatient and force it.
If you read it,
you could tell.

Now I’m quite a bit older, and
I quit trying.
Fodder seems to be
everywhere.
I can write about
the most mundane
things.

Today I’m at the
library waiting for my
girlfriend to
finish up at the dentist.
She’s getting her
teeth cleaned.
All my drinking ruined
my teeth.
When I got them
pulled a year ago,
there wasn’t a
healthy tooth in my head.
I have dentures now, so
I don’t have to
worry about how much I drink.
I know this isn’t a
good poem, but
hey,
there she is
all shiny and bright…
and sober.

If it comes out the tap,
I'm drinking it.
Whatever is public.

If we can't at least guarantee clean water,
Who are we?

If you think I'm only talking about one thing,
I'm sorry.

If it shouldn't bother you,
Does it?
Why do different?
Why worry?
Like a fly buzzing,
Best just to ignore it.
Swat it!
Stamp it!
Crush it!

I am drowning in the bubbles that my father introduced me to.
sipping on things I never should have known about
at such a young age

I am genuinely scared about my very existence.
I am so, so exhausted.

I drink until my eyes blur and the world spins.
Then when I wake up
I am still tired.

bubbles.

what a funny concept...

tiny little spheres

floating

in the sips of drinks I should not have.

Tea is a colorful drink,
It comes in many different shades.
White Tea,
Sweet and delicate, brewed from the fragrant flowers of the tea tree.
Black Tea,
Strong and simple, a firm hand to lift you up from bed.
Green Tea,
Earthy and natural, weather or not the leaves or fired or steamed.
The Tea from my Grandmother's ***,
Beautiful and delicate, imprinting upon you like fresh snow on the roads of Boston.

Fine china is pressed to my lips.
offering a moment of sweet bliss,
as soothing warmth envelopes me
and my troubles start to fade.

Slowly sipping my cup of tea,
I find all is as it should be,
and clarity slowly emerges
putting my mind at ease.

I enjoy this relaxing remedy,
in this comforting serenity,
with a smile and a sigh
I find Positivi-tea.

©️Lizzie Bevis

Sought without treacle
Added forces, that knew me
Actual lip for a liberty to still
The oncoming voice of reality, which to live is anarchy

But sakes, with resolves ice?
Brazen futures of dismay
In the harkening ordeal of wonder's spice
Given the gift of today, is any and all may?

Ripeness of worth, on the behalf
Of simplicity, there always a reign
Of suppose and its final victory, sass
Ancient as a cloud of virtue can be, there is always pain...

Till we understate the dreams of another
The courtesy of a somber wish, with it to show...
Caught like timidity was a choice, of sincere bother
Letting love be the lucre of the day, a curiosity we owe...

Is a long-standing debt, to a wishes heart...
Which came first, the chastity or the ecstasy?
The doles of harmony, are saviors of shrewdness that art?
Space for lingering in the paces and shadows, of intimacy...

Is a lover's ghost for any who would, or am I the doting meant?
A chance of risen honor, that has the time...
Welcome me to youthful pasts, if not passion in the charm lent
A presence of mind, with a wish as the only way to a soul's kind?

Drinking with also's ghost?
Haven't to fuel, a conversation to live better, than a carnal know...
Of imagination and voiced seldom to favor, a wish that included a host
Of vice to fall in lots of sincere vanity, that was promised how, to a worthier world...

i am not thinking
clearly no more drinking does
a toll on my mind

drink in my hand.
laughter fills the room,
as the band on stage cracks a joke.
inhaling the drug fumes.

this addiction is only temporary.
it keeps me bright,
it makes me forget all the weight i carry.
despite what i feel in the next hour.

i make it home,
laying alone in my bed.
those haunting feelings come back to roam.
they will never leave your head.

no matter how many drinks,
the drugs,
all of the parties,
bars…

at the end of the day,
you still feel like you’re shrinking.
there’s no one to lug you back.
your heart isn’t at ease.
there are still scars.

a.b.