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Josephine Wilea Dec 2020
Two years ago today
Was our one month anniversary
Your father wouldn't let me come over
He never did approve of us.

Two years ago today
I loved you too much
I liked the feeling too much
I hated life too much

Two years ago today
I was surrounded by
Six half-full bottles of

Two years ago today
I emptied those pills
Into my heart and they
Infected my soul.

Two years ago today
I had a seizure in my bed
And lost all memory
Of the week leading up to it.

Two years ago today
I was rushed to the hospital
Lay shaking in the bed
Unable to lift my head.

Two years ago today
You visited me, eyes filled with
Something I'd never seen in them:

Two years ago today
You climbed into my bed and
Held me like you thought
I would shatter.

Two years ago today
Was the very last day
I would ever have
Two years ago today I overdosed on my antidepressants. This anniversary is more difficult than the last. On that day, because of that action, I lost the love of my life, and I will never forgive myself.
Calla Fuqua Dec 2019
All I see are the insides of my eyelids.
All I hear are muffled sounds of people
Panicked by the sight of my unruly body.
Shifting in and out of what I think to be real,
Flickering on and off,
Someone is playing with the lights.

Someone touches me  
I want to touch back


And again.

Who is touching me?

They stop.

Desperate for touch,
I grasp for something that’s not there.
I collect nothing but air in my hands.

     Touch touch touch
Touch something!
Touch anything!
Proctor Ehrling Nov 2019
A relapse is beginning
With the walls thinning
Wanted to write a poem about alcoholism, but this is the only line I ended up liking in the whole thing, cause the poem itself is just too on-the-nose.
neth jones Oct 2019

with more heat than light
more feast, than a violence
we found a clamour


drunk tank, we tackled
battered at one and the other
we mashed in pleasing


we dedicated
fractured time manufactured
sot saturated


misfunctional us
trussed ; brace pinned neat by the heels
whatever be, come


the floor-riding fits
upturned, revealing sickness
now observed and prone

hold hands

treated far apart
separate medical cots
in damage we bed
Tori Mar 2019
Sleepless dreaming, framed by screaming.
Is she breathing?
Take the time.
One. Two. Three.
I wonder…
Four. Five.
Is death kind?
Six. Seven.
Will she make it?
Eight. Nine.
Never mind.
Marble eyes roll in their pockets,
Arms and legs seizing their sockets,
Groaning breath sends lips aquiver,
Her tiny figure writhes and shivers.
Ten. Eleven
How much longer?
Twelve. Dear God!
Let her be stronger.
A Toneless voice of mock assurance,
Won’t deter these pulsing currents,
Tongues detained by ball and chain,
Massage the air to ease the pain.
Thirteen comes.
Now slowly, easy.
The sound of gentle breathing.
Dimple-drawn, her mouths sweet boarders,
Pull that weak smile from its cask,
Inhale relief, a hard won nectar,
Her limbs all leaded from their task.
One nod from death,
one swift departure
and for the moment, all is fine.
The clock's cold hands
continue turning,
So don't forget to take the time.
Egeria Litha Jan 2019
Sun rays poking from the windows
I can't get my head off this pillow
stale air in this room and I'm holding my breath
anxiety attempts to control what occurs next
then a seizure erupts in my head

Hits the glitch
in my automatic mask
I show for the world
and all those thoughts
I can't hold in my brain space
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