You ever hug the wall
At a high school homecoming?
Wishing those moths in your stomach,
Would just fucking die already.
You wore your brand new
Slipped them on
To dance with your demons,
In a sea of your peers.
The fruit punch tastes like defeat,
The ballads from the 80’s are too damn loud.
Yet your peers are so cheery,
You, tired and weary.
Looking forward to going home,
And drink yourself to sleep.
My head is red
My eyes have pain
I've been drinking rum from dusk till dawn
Will I wake up in the morning?
The sky exploded in a blinding light
Stopping what would have become a fight.
A man I'd known from a time back when
Shook his head when he downed number 10.
Away, away, away we go.
Where will we end up?
We'll cross the seas
And collect our fees
Singing all the way through
Drinking our rum and having our fun while singing a dancing tune.
We'll dance a jig
And take a swig
Surrounded by jewels and rum.
Away, away, away we go
Where will we end up?
But away, away, away we go
Drinking our rum and having our fun.
Where will we end up?
Not even we know.
You smoked your throat gone.
I'll sit in bed opening and closing my Opinel No. 8 and stare at an unread compilation of a then-alive poet's correspondence with a then-and-still-dead poet and wonder at the cover art, a fishing-line-thin threaded rope that could well be tied in a slipknot. Tendrils that look like loose straw scattered thirty different ways.
He said You can't fuck your life away and there are many ways to do that. I'm stuck inside a small bedroom dreaming or hallucinating an open space, streams flowing from nowhere near and flat space so full of sky it is sin to call it empty. The world can be hot and fast; I am bad at resting. I don't sleep well. I can float a river and not once hear it moving.
You drank and dissected your drinking so it could masquerade as something under your control. We all are guilty of this at some point. In some way or another. I am lucky to sit in my bedroom and write that the next two years of my life have well been mapped. I do not pout, there is no malice here. My head is close, fastened between my small shoulders. I share no heart with Yesenin.
You can't fuck your life away he said he thought. These things change. But you can!
There's something nostalgic about
The smell of
Cigarettes in the rain.
I am reminded of
Nights bleeding over into
Bonfires on the beach
I've wandered away from
My feet sinking deeper
Into dark, cold sand
The cool water only slightly
Tickling my toes
I think of
In unknown houses
Trying to recount
What just transpired.
Faces that have
Come and gone
I couldn't tell you.
In the midst of it all
I feel nothing.
A 3 AM hotel concierge
Reeking of cigarettes in the rain
Can bring it all back
Course smoke in a downpour
Nicotine in the mist
How could I ever miss a feeling like this?
You use the cocaine to drown the pain.
It makes you feel good and feel fine
While your life flows down the drain
Of a sink you don't use to clean yourself.
Your chest aches when you wake
And your stomach flips because of the limit you always exceed.
You can't do hard liquor but there's no slowing your beer intake.
I can feel your existence shudder and shake
From your core you freeze in this snow.
The high you can't get from the life you let yourself live.
I stand here watching you die and you love to tell me how I don’t know
But the sad thing is I know I could be you.
It's something I feel every day that I’m afraid to do.
My life is nothing like yours and I can’t even compare.
You pass out in the doorway and never wash your hair.
When I met you my body began to attack itself
And I tried to remind you of what love could feel like
But the cold in your chest could never love back
Because I don't think you know what it feels like to begin with.
So starved for food, for love, for purpose that you treat it all like a myth.
I tell you it's not healthy and you try to convince me you're not human.
You act extra trying to convince me you're an extraterrestrial
But I’m expecting to one day soon attend your burial.
You scare me with how dead you want to be.
I’ve made jokes about dying but it's never something I planned to see.
Here you are digging your bed and filling such pain in your head.
The alcohol is your next demon and it's the swimming pool you'll live in
Regardless of the drugs or cigarettes because I know sobriety is not your strong suit.
The ice may overtake your body but the river will flood your mind
And it's not the kind of problem you can fix by being a brute.
You try to fight away all the words and all the eyes you attract
Because I don't think you can handle if the words are a fact.
The medical world is focused on our elders and their dementia or Alzheimer’s disease
But I feel like it's worth stating that alcoholism or your addiction is on the level of these.
People my age are drinking and smoking until they forget.
They forget themselves and the ones they love because they want to escape everything they feel is a threat.
You'll wake up shaking and crying about the pain you're in but not remember the night you lived,
All the fun you might have had or the horror you might have inflicted is lost by the time you awoke and writhed in agony.
All my words are dead and I can't revive them again to try to remind you of something you never learned.
You can't remember anything and you wonder why I’m concerned.
You're living with a disease and it feels like a lie to say you're even living.
Your happiness is not in a bag and not in a bottle because those thrills are unforgiving.
I wish you'd listen to me.
I know you're lying if you say you're free.
The work day’s done,
no one to answer to--
no responsibility, no deadline,
no assignment due.
Now I’ve got a date, a rendezvous,
with my best friend Jack, he’s always true.
Sipping slowly; it’s meant to savor.
Fiery liquid with smoky flavor.
Tip the bottle; now, don’t waver.
Take me away, from insipid task,
annoying colleagues, boss always with an ask.
When I pour the faithful bottle
I go elsewhere; it pulls the throttle.
Slip away into dreamland;
just me and jack; he’s got no demands.
Drink the potion, enter trance.
Jack and I, in tandem dance.
A slow waltz seen in double vision;
free from decision.