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Nicole Sep 2017
Drinking all night,
Sleeping my days away
My demons don't drown
They swim on the surface
You want to get out?
I whisper Show Me
The key to escape is not running
Jr Aug 2017
Irrita la garganta y daña el hígado,
que bastante ya se ha visto machacado
por años de prácticas funestas.

El más ****** líquido,
encuentra camino en mi esófago,
repleto de falsas esperanzas,
va camino abajo y patea mis entrañas
encargándose de dejar escapar la cordura.

Menos por menos es más,
y aquello que te vuelva inestable
en una casa sin columnas ni vigas,
seguro te hará sentir a salvo.

Fuerte aroma y tacto cuestionable,
aunque lo conozcas desde siempre,
todas las veces se siente
como el primer beso
pero con mordida.

Como champaña descorchada,
hace florecer cualquier pensamiento,
entre palabras que escapan a duras penas
de la lengua envenenada y adormecida.

El que lo niegue no lo ha probado,
y si lo probó y lo negó,
tiene ante usted a un ángel limpio y puro,
puesto que ésta es la poción de los pisoteados.
Cocuy.
Rowan Darcy Aug 2017
The ghost of her father brings her to tears,
She weeps on the floor alone with her fears,
In a bed full of ***** lies a man nearly dead,
He drank himself blind to hide from his head,
While a child lies awake with wide young eyes,
Swears never to drink till the day that he dies,
I sit in the cold and the dark with a rat,
Consider the world and smoke my last jack
Nicole Aug 2017
The cavity in my chest
Feels less empty when you're around
And maybe I utilize that fact
To heal parts of my broken soul
Without the mind-numbing effects
Of my antidepressants
I feel unnerving panic and
If I tell you then you'll leave
I wish we could skip ahead
Beyond all this confusion and heartache
To a time where we can settle down
And breathe again, together
But I know that if I skip this moment
I would lose my time with you
And even on my worst day
You make me feel whole
So even if this ends
In a way that neither of us desire
At least I had the experience of you
That'll always make my heart smile
Nicole Aug 2017
I can't give you what you need
When I'm 40 miles away
But I can give you my love
If you're willing to wait

One day, some day
We can lie stress-free together
Without worrying about departure
And we can stay that way forever

I'm scared of all these feelings
Overwhelming and without control
I absolutely adore you
And I know it may be more

You're so perfect to me
From your smile to your laugh
The way your brain drives you insane
Still makes my heart lose its grasp

You're so hard to read
And that makes my heart freeze
But I guess I have to trust you
And that's just fine by me
Belle Aug 2017
Once I drank so much I threw up and blacked out.
I vowed I wouldn’t drink again until I was 21.
Two weeks later I drank again thinking maybe it would make someone care.
It didn’t.
Paul Butters Aug 2017
This is not poetry.
No embracing the wonders of the universe
Or deafening you with rhetoric.
No apple blossom aromas
Or vistas wide and clear.
No Romance or wisdom,
Just a pint of beer.

My small talent for words
Came from Mum and Dad,
And I take no credit for that.
If only I had read more,
Instead of being a brat.

My ego is exploding,
I’m ever the bighead.
Couldn’t care less about my critics
And sleep easy in my bed.

For once I’ve started rhyming,
That’s a change for me.
Prefer to be unshackled,
My verse just running free.

It’s time to hit the pub now.
I’m only here for beer.
But I’ll be back again to type,
Never have a fear.

Paul Butters
From Notes made back in early May. (5\5 in fact). Dedicated to a drinking pal of mine who stubbornly refuses to read any poetry because it is ALL "meaningless gobbledygook words"!!!
Ashley Aug 2017
The elixir of freedom
disappears without a proper goodbye.
I am its puppet.
It pulls my strings
and I dance.

I converse without a care and
take in the sweet sights and sounds.
In this moment,
life is grandiose.

The world is beginning to spin
and focus becomes foreign.
I continue to dance,
but the strings become worn.

My mania enchants me
As I sit on the torn couch.
The chipped paint and flickering bulb
remind me of my reality.

My head slams and
I swear I could feel it bruise.
No one ever tells you
how badly it hurts to feel numb.

And as I fall to my knees
I dedicate this poem to the floor
who holds me when no one else will.
written april 2015
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