Iska Oct 7

One
Oh what fun this has become.
Two
So much life in me and you!
Three
So this is what it means to be free?
Four
Maybe one more behind closed doors....
Five
I can't quit, without it I don't feel alive...
Six
"You need to stop, your addicted and soon it'll be too late to fix"
Seven
"Do you wish to die? Because we both know that's where your headed."
Eight
More then just pills, they are an escape. An escape from all this depression and hate.
Nine
You've changed, you've taken it too far. How could you be so blind?
Ten
The monitor goes silent, your heart stops it's beat, never to start again.

h m w Sep 28

He smiled at me and said 'here, take this'

It was a happy little pill of his and it would feel bliss

I smiled and gave him a kiss saying, 'thank you baby'

But what happened next forever will drive me crazy

Next thing you know I was spinning in my head

Then he wanted to bring me to a bed

His friends walked in and wanted more

So they all called me a ‘dirty little whore’

My body was numb and I couldn’t move

I let out a scream but they didn’t approve

Everything went black but then again I woke

But to them it was nothing but a funny little joke

They locked me inside of a walk in closet

So if there was a stir I sure wouldn’t cause it

I blacked out again and woke in a different place

Treating me as if my soul were missing and my body were a case

Still I was unable to move nor speak

But he still said he loved me and kissed me on the cheek

I counted five inhumane beings on top of me moaning

One was even playfully groaning

I was disgusted and wanted it to end

But I knew that after this my mind would never mend

By now it would have been a little past three in the morning

Earlier I should have taken that adorable face as a warning

When they realized I was sobering up

They had an alibi saying they’d call this a hookup

When I could finally move my mouth again

I realized what had happened and felt heavy chest pain

They heard that I was muttering words that were incomprehensible

They saw me as nothing more than a body and that I was dispensable

They came up with a plan to hide my body in a ditch

I even heard one say, 'she deserved it, what a stupid bitch'

I hit my head when they threw me on the ground

I only saw black in front of me and around

I woke up to a woman asking if I were okay

I only said one phrase and it was that 'I was betrayed'

What happened after that is irrelevant at best

All I will say is that I was nothing but stressed

This is my story and it happened two years ago today

Nailing an image in my mind that I was a targeted prey

I know now that I hold so much more worth

And I love myself more than anything on this Earth

Just know that these words have come straight from my heart

No matter how vile and disgusting this memory is, I can never restart

So I tried to make it a poem so it seems like some kind of art.

h.m.w

I am a sexual assault victim and I never received justice.
redruMAndTea Sep 28

nobody ever “got it”
they didn’t seem to understand
that it was never about the drugs
they saw a waste of space
a low life teen
surfing on neon hallucinations
they saw angry decisions
blackened by ash
and a years destruction of a
pill bottle’s attach
said we should have listened
harder to those programs
the cunningham family ones
they show at school
the ones that showed us
drugs were “bad”
but those damn things
failed to inform us on the “noise”
the “noise” that would soon fill
the space of every broken
dream, promise, or heart.
the “noise” that weighed
down on us kids
that didn't end once it had
hit start.
they failed to mention
the pain and the stress
they lied and never told us how
life, school, parents, everything
was forever one big unsolved mess.
like a knife it slit into our souls
bleeding tears and dignity
we leaned over bridges to try and catch
our childhood memories
but we kept bleeding
losing ourselves in a void of darkness
falling
falling
falling
deeper into a blackened abist
and so we kept falling,
trying desperately to cling on to any branch
anything.
until our shaky blue fingertips kissed
softly against an ecstasy.
a cure
and finally for the first time sense as
long as we could remember,
the noise was no more.

Rayne Sep 23

I'm your very own
Tablet of artificial happiness.
Because apparently
You're not capable of doing it yourself.
But it's okay, just swallow me
And I will fix you chemically.

You'll still be broken
But for a while
I'll make you forget
Because with me you'll have no choice
But to smile.
Don't be mad, just swallow me,
I'll get rid of your anxiety.

I don't always work
But I'm not perfect, of course
Just like you.
For that's why I'm here after all.
Your brains mis-wired but swallow me,
And I'll fix that... temporarily.

I understand why
You don't want to take me
Since you want
Simply to fix things on your own.
But give it up and swallow me,
Because no way you'll fix it naturally.

Because without me
You'll be as lost as you were.
Back in the beginning
Of a dark life you don't want to live.
Because admit it.
If you don't swallow me,
When in your life will you ever be
Happy?

skye Sep 22

i sent flashing lights to his door,
i didn't want to risk it.
the image of those pills and that deep brown coffee liqueur scared me, the thought of him filling himself with it.
he told me he wasn't mad at me for it,
he told me everything was okay and not to do it again, though.
i guess he felt too bad,
i guess it hurt him like last time.
she sent the flashing lights to the forest,
she told me that things weren't looking up.
my cheeks are tacky with tears,
my nose is stuffy.
now i'm just waiting all night,
now i'm just waiting until i get a message that they found him in the forest.
i can't sleep knowing that i'm part of why,
i can't sleep wondering if he'll be okay.

suicide. the police stopped looking for him because the woods were too dark and they'll resume in the morning. all i'm hoping for is that he's alive.

brews in the morning
and wine as a snack,
whiskey for dinner while
filling the flasks,
killing the good times
and killing the laughs
while the singing the songs
in front of a glass.
bags under eyes and
sores on the back,
from cooking the meth
and freebasing crack,
fists are all red from a
drunken bloodbath,
leaving behind a
destructive warpath.
smoking the weed and
popping the pills,
screwing the whores and
drinking the swill.
clearing the haze
and filling the trays
with ashes and cherries
and memories were made,
the pale moon descends
and the weather is vane,
sun begins to ascend
through the window of pane,
impaling the eyes like the
pecking of crows,
the question is why and
nobody knows.

it was the sixth month
of the tenth year and the
overtures calmly play under
balustrades before I emboldened
myself to the reign of the dark clouds
overshadowing a 3 year bender
with nothing to gain except the
wretched routine of torment and
suffering. creating my own plague
of misery and flooding the basements
of my agony with 900 hangovers
by telling myself:

I will not refuse to get drunk
I will not refuse to get drunk
I will not refuse to get drunk  

by the time of the eighth
month of the twelfth year
the almond shaped amygdala
that sits idle in my mind are as
desolate and bleak as a
post apocalyptic toxic city
and the excruciating discomfort
invaded my temple while the
imperishable relationship with
my two esteemed colleagues;
The Reverend Vim and
Professor Vigor have left me
for dead in a ditch of solitude.
negligent to life and death but
never contemplating suicide,
although feeling alone and afraid,
my progeny was my strength and
will to carry on in a house full
of locked doors and endless
surroundings of stupidity and
confidence. I'd rather immerse
myself in a canopy of milky white
sap from the Manchineel trees off
the coastal waters of the Antigua
than relive the glory days with a
bad mixture of pills and booze.
Death is a selfish lover
I've been to bed with
many times before and
ended up with the same
unsatisfying results.

Darker times living with an old roommate and not caring whether I live or die. Those times are behind me.
Shanath Sep 16

The black and white pills
Are failing to cure me,
After three long years of running
It's my feet that's killing me.

I would have ran home
Though I ran from there,
It is only when you are alive
That you begin dying.

Black and blue bruises
Hug me tighter than my own skin,
I wouldn't know I still had blood
If I still didn't bleed so much.

I should have drowned myself by now
If I could reach the sea.
But it is in my sadness
I learnt the opposite must exist.

I am waiting for the end
Then we will begin again.

The skeleton on my shirt that matches
The pain in my head as
Letters pop up on my phone I cannot read
From here
Behind me and
The more I fight my medication that
Whispers to me
"Sleep. Morning will come. The day is done. Smile."
But
The more I fidget and
The more I write and
The more I cry has it
Screaming to me and
I faint knowing I am nothing more than
Pills in bottles.

Wake up
Pretend
Take a sleeping pill
Do it all over again

9/7/2017
Sleeping is nice
It keeps me from my thoughts
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