Intoxication won't bring solace.
Neither it bring back the person over whom you got intoxicated every single night...
Liquor bottles and rapt promises
All sometimes mean the same thing for me
At first glance, they seem a little bit too much
To be handled by a mere, innocent minor like me
They say I'm too young to take or drink them
They say only adults can get a taste of them
But of course, I let my curiosity get the best of me
And here I am, sneaking some from the shelf.
Bitter. I unconsciously rejected it
For it was too bitter for me to handle
Manifesto too new, flavour too foul
Sensation incomprehensible, what's yet to come?
I finished half. Half of the bottle.
Internalized half of the emotions thrown
Embedded in between those highfalutin speeches
And I'm only waiting for what's next.
Warmth. It's warm, it's creeping in
Am I letting myself be thawed by their voice?
Or maybe it's just the liquid speaking
As it glides down from my mouth to my throat?
Euphoria. I feel nice. For the first time.
Taking more gulps doesn't feel a bit wrong.
Being succumbed to their words doesn't feel wrong.
It only feels all the more alright.
Tepid. Loaded. Giddy. Fine.
All these are happening all at once
I've been searching for this feeling all my life
WHY HAVE I NOT KNOWN BEFOREHAND!?
I only bought a bottle to try
Only sought a promise to swallow
Is one not enough for my troubled soul?
Is this how much I craved to feel fine?
No matter how many bottles we gulp
No matter how wholeheartedly we trust
When the ethereal high runs out in a bittersweet haze
It's time to clean them all up.
For the empty liquor bottles and empty rapt promises
Will only leave you reeking with its pungent smell
Along with trailing tears on your cheeks
And another throbbing head the next day.
Day 3 of #NaPoWriMo 2020. Funny because the prompt of this one was created months ago---but I only actually wrote it today. Well, I write too many pieces about intoxication.
******* on a can of beer
I'm sure the answer's in here somewhere
diversion of my mind map
fools illusion, mirage'd secret
a child again
at the stupidest of things
I could conquer the universe
just as long as this bubble
my body starts to question though
just how far I'm prepared
beyond the veil
beyond the pale
the edge of insanity
a dance with the devil
crash comes through
of this spaceship
in a sea of pain and fear
what did I do last night
dare I answer that texted phone
Sometimes, I feel
that intoxication would burn down my pain
only to find out
that it can reemerge from the ashes
unless it's treated with love
“Sorrow can be alleviated by good sleep, a bath and a glass of wine.” ~ Saint Thomas Aquinas, Italian Dominican Priest, 1225 – 1274,
poured the poison down my throat
just to numb the pain
the overwhelming pain
and I poured... and poured
take it slow... then a bit braver...
a shot... another...
til my limbs felt loose
the room swayed
and I just... I just felt good
the pain... had melted away
just as I had desired
just as I had craved
and I loved it
I;ve done it
from that ******* hell i''ve been livng in
can't ******* think striaght
but i don;t feel the pain
I can dance and be free
and just not give a ****
hahahahaha I WIN
Intoxication and rock music are a good pair
Sweet blueberry wine
from across the sea
you brought to me
the lovely night
Where she swayed
and laughed like bells
dancing free around
the shabby kitchen
that first time
we drank drunkly
she on sweet wine
and me on her smile
It's easier to watch sometimes, drinking in their addictive mannerisms than to tell them.
How sweet it is to, deep into the night,
Let percolate your dreams in dripping suds
Of glowingly inebriate delight
Distilled from golden rills and amber floods,
And into threads of starlight finely spun—
All witched by frozen moonlight, pitched in black—
Descend your limbs (made heavy by the run
Of daily cares), and lay relaxed and slack
Till, saturate with drowsiness—and high
Within a space of jewels and gems and jet—
You fall into the black hole's empty eye,
And all the world and all your self forget.
How sweet it is to all your life forsake,
Forgetting you had ever been awake.