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Kora Sani Apr 30
everyone said it was a hard pill to swallow
so i held it at the back of my throat
would i become better or worse for this

white wine
followed closely behind
making sure the pill found its way
to my bloodstream

they never told me
i would have to do this
until my body became numb
to the side effects

and even in the aftermath
after the side effects dissipated
i was told
to keep going

each gulp
becoming a reminder
of what never was
and what couldn't be
I know this feeling all to well
Waking up liver hurting like hell
So i reach for the bottle
The only thing I know will help
Reach out. There is hope. You can live a normal life again free from your addiction.
neth jones Feb 24
fumb­ling my entrance               array                                      
passionately late            i pull off my tie          
               and crashing      here without apology
                 all-ready     a crowd sweated room
                                  low ceiling   candy glass munching underfoot          
the senses are rushed upon   fuming                                          
                ­          lit up and strobing    with the chaotic humour                
                                     and tumorous smells
furious ingestion                                            
     swellings       and releases    
  pelling and girling     with the dances         
hectic music    making hero's of uz all
a steaming sot lady  lands before me laughing
        she climbs me  till her bare feet find ground
      naked   from the waist up  
her dress has fallen  into a trampled magpie tail      
         doughy  features unfocused
    my heart is gurning with ruckus      
                installed with an addicts engine      
   it caves and puffs for attention
   these are my people  
these are my people                                                
                                now that they're reached their peak
of ******* inebriation          
     and raving chorus
i am drawn imediate     into the density
JJ Inda Jan 21
I was feeling ill
even though
I hadn't drank
for several days.
-or at least a day for sure.
I needed eggs and bacon
and maybe a couple of beers.
In the end
I had to settle for bread and butter
and a five dollar bottle of wine.
Dave Robertson Dec 2021
What’s in your glass, huh?

What’s your poison
with the noise and the noise
in and out of the head?

What swirls, has legs
and kicks like a mule?

Fool juice, nana called it,

but **** me
I could use some fooling
mark soltero Dec 2021
moving backwards farther than before
can’t look at myself anymore
they made me bruise my skin
generosity is lame
authenticity is a facade
your empty promises will buy it all
jealousy resides in my heart to this day because of them
flashbacks haunt me
green lights guide me down away from reality
save me from my former
a sad child out for revenge
cold to touch
fully detached and shaking
haunting visions of time spent in delusion
lie to feel
lie to escape
feel the power behind that
behind the bile and tears were strength
i regret the times when i had it all
nights spent with myself loathing my own
a boken mirror is like drinking alone
sometimes i think im dying
but i’m not worth saving
break the cycle
but what’s the point
Kole J McNeil Dec 2021
The monsters under our beds turn to monsters in our heads

The ghosts in the attic become the ghosts of past loves

Pain was a broken leg that soon became a fight to the death with your mind

Shots were something we got so we didnt get sick but they turned to needles littering the ground

Medicine was tylonal we took when we had a cough now its pills we pop to forget life

we went from cutting paper into works of art to ripping our own skin apart into a crimson mess

yelling was what you did at the playground now it's what happens when when you can't stand living

Bruises would come from falling off the monkeybars now they come from those you think love you

shots were from soda caps and giggles that turned to sneaking out and getting wasted to forget

What happend to those kids whoes eyes were full of hope

What happened to those kids who wanted to grow up
I miss being so youthfull and looking forward the future
Kewayne Wadley Dec 2021
Your memories are a poem
Presented to me at the end of the bar.
Alone & fleeting; an escape from reality.
Wanting to take part in the meeting
Of strangers; A variety of faces exchanging
****** temptation disguised as liquid courage.
Chased by the thought of not being alone
Your memories are a poem
Refilled soon as it's emptied. Wished away,
Wanting to be pursued
In exchange for monetary currency.
Bad ideas that roam the ideology of good,
You fill me, I feel you.
I stand & I stumble around the thought of you.
You start to leave me soon as I start to feel you
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