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She came to me, with a vial of dust.
A means of a healing, the taste was like rust.
Her wings, her secret. Her halo gave no light,
As my desperate song found her ears in the night.

I knew what she offered. I knew the whole game.
And yet, I moved forward—a moth to a flame.
Her vial sparked flares that pierced through the black.
I knew in that moment; I’d never look back.

An ember lit the dust, its smoke filled my being—
An offering to the soul, to keep it from leaving.
Each grain was a vow. Each breath was a sin.
Yet a life that laid to end, now stood to begin.

But when the dawn broke, she was no longer there.
Just poison on my breath and dust in the air.
I did find the vial, but no other trace.
Just a void in the air and a numb, rusty taste.

I walk the dark path. Her whispers, my guide.
Chasing silence, so me and my demons can hide.
She gave me the calm in a handful of ash.
For once, I have laid down the guilt of my crash.

I'm addicted. I still sing that desperate song.
Here to stay, where I may, or I may not belong.
A forbidden solace, that keeps me in the calm.
My shadow that still tries to pull me along.

I remain tormented, so this dust stays near.
Angelic in essence, how it banishes fear.
This angel didn’t save me. For this, I have sight.
But gave me the will to outlast one more night.

By day, perceived evil. By night, purely good.
Should I alter my state? For a will to live, I could.
Might someone judge me? Who’s to say it's not right?
To choose life one more time and keep carving out light.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦
C 4d
I wonder if I will let myself eat cake on my birthday?
I don’t want 25 to be the year that I waste away.


Every sprinkle

is a number,

every morsel

fuels my hunger.


In the mirror,
stands my executioner.
Day three of swallowing the guilt
45 degrees to the left on a two lane road
Would stop the screaming
Stomach no longer boiling in its own acid
Just drowning in black coffee and take out
Sweat no longer leaving a cartoon outline on the sheets
Just need a cool ring pressed against my palate
They said it would be cheaper
Coffee quickly out spends the rot gut
Staring through gleaming glasses
Rather than the amber round, looking up
Smiling and swirling around
A dancer in the dark
My own symphony
Playing for me, just me
As I shake shake shake
It was always either the DTs or the cold
A ***** soaked cocoon of the moth I am now
Not right
Never quite
Roll the dice
Let the monthly chips fall where they may
Collect like them a thousand purple hearted liver spots
Build a castle of coins
Circular towers, thrown stones in miller’s glass lighthouse
Addict yourself to getting better
Its the only way forward
Even when you are being pulled backwards
I gave too much, I see that now—
My time, my light, I don’t know how.
But now I choose to call it back,
And seal the holes that formed each crack.

They took my softness, stole my peace,
Demanded more, and gave no ease.
Their chaos isn’t mine to bear,
Their wounds aren’t ones I need to wear.

I’m not your friend, I’m not your crutch—
This soul is sacred, not a clutch.
From now, my light is mine to keep,
You’ll haunt no more the way I sleep.

I felt the drain, I felt the cost,
But now reclaim what I had lost.
No more will guilt or shame remain—
You’re not my burden, not my chain.

I cleanse the time that left me frayed,
The debt unpaid, the trust betrayed.
I take my power, my love, my fire—
I rise above, I climb up higher.

This wound will close, and I will shine,
This soul, this work, this light is mine.
And never will I serve once more
A weight that shakes me to my core.
Jeff Bresee Mar 26
Each time before when I had fallen, landing in the pit below,
I found upon the ground were words that I could gather up to build
a latticework of scaffolding to climb upon so I could go
back to the surface with the crowd, but every time I found that still

I’d stay close to the ledge not knowing why I didn’t walk away.
I told myself it wasn’t wise. I asked, “why don’t you ever learn?”
It seemed t’was in my blood forever, an unexplained desire to stay,
a search for reasons I could finally give up once again and turn

to take that foolish step and plunge myself back in the pit of pain
where I would sip it down as liquor, custom stilled to quench the thirst.
It had become the only way I knew to feel something again,
a custom-made handcrafted sculpture of what was to me the worst.

But somewhere in that dreaded cycle, midst the chore of gathering words
I found some until then passed over. No, t’was not at all by chance.
I knew they were those long ago while in my youth I’d onetime heard
but I had never chose to use them. They seemed foolish at a glance.

They were to me the words of fable, used to herd the crowd above,
but in my hour of desperation there was nothing else to do
and so I started sifting through them til I found the word of “love”
which left me standing, staring at it til I’d fully thought it through.

This was the word I had avoided. I felt it was so overused.
It seemed to mingle every single poem and book and tale and song,
but in that moment standing there I realized I’d been confused.
That everything I had associated it with had been wrong.

For in the pile I’d found it in were other words I’d also passed
over and I must admit, I done so all the while in fear.
Won’t ever understand it but, I finally opened up and asked
God to help me, then I stood in silence wondering if he’d hear.

But I was soon distracted for I watched these words, before my eyes,
move out from the pile where one by one they all aligned themselves
into the most poetic prose, which as I read it made me cry
and when I wiped the tears away, I looked around and found myself

atop a mountain, high above the land below, no longer near
the pit of pain. I stood there for a long time taking in the view,
and as I did the message that the words formed became very clear.
The word of “love” stood boldly in my mind and I knew what to do.

The years have now passed on ere since that time I finally changed my ways.
Would like to say I’ve never since come close unto the pit of pain
but I admit, I still go there to celebrate my darkest days
and when I’m there I stand close to the edge to look back down again.

But now each time I stand there, I no longer feel the way I did.
I’m not there to fall, but rather simply view it from the ledge above.
I guess I like the feeling I get when I walk away instead,
knowing that it’s possible… because I finally learned of love.
Lemon Black Mar 26
The leaflet reads:
“Be mindful of your desires,
be careful
where they come from
and where they’re heading.
Use drive to drive choice.
Be the one who decides
before you join in
and follow along.
Otherwise
the path to your freedom
is then walked down
bare feet and bare mind.
The good ol’ valley of yours.”
Inside your own head, own voice,
while taking a handful.
We know the details but don’t know the truth of what really runs through the head when poisons run through the veins, poisons of all sorts. The experience seems real, the calling very much so, so strong that we decide to answer, despite our reason objecting. It is its most shameful moment of losing control over a creature domesticated eons ago. The beast rushes to the electric fence only for shocks and burns, not even trying to escape, rebelling yet still yoked. How many times before it tries another path, and does the path lead only to the destination? Through seeking come findings.
layla Mar 25
It's been a long time.
Hello, poetry.
In dire situations like this
I needed to write
Trapped within an eternal cycle
Of fight or flight

40 days clean
From the grinding teeth
The stinging nose
Tear myself apart
For using on Christmas
(Which nobody knows)

Temporarily, i found true love
Near holy and pure
My heart beat his name
The lovely boy
I once dreamed of
Push come to shove
He finally had enough
Forever i shall wait
Perhaps he'll show up

In my brain
A constant war
I get on my knees and beg for no more
Only way of there being peace
Is to spread my wings and fly
Set oneself free
Then i will escape
The terror of me

A dark room i lay
Destined to rot
My skin will decay
Oh the poor soul
Whom will find my body that inevitable, fateful day

Until then i sit
Wounds on display
Losing the faith once there to pray
I've taken it upon myself
To punish and repay
Warm blood gushing apologies i never got to say.
apologies for it being so long and not as intricate as my past poems, it's been a long time and i needed an outlet
Andy Denson Mar 22
change is the only constant
but being is open-hearted
& loving more.

i don’t want to be so
drunk
that i wake up in gun hill road.
home on new year’s day. 7 am.

for me, you can always reclaim a
sense of sanity
even in a time of chaos.

there are many things that
one
cannot reclaim.

why should i try?
if those things are gone…

did i need them in the
1st place?

self-worth comes back.
things get stolen.
for something
new.
This poem reflects on the tumultuous journey toward sobriety and self-discovery. It grapples with the desire for change, the fear of losing oneself, and the realization that some losses pave the way for newfound self-worth. The imagery of waking up on Gun Hill Road symbolizes moments of reckoning, while the contemplation of what is truly necessary invites readers to consider the essence of personal growth.
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