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When I am sober, I always look back
To times when I didn’t have knives in my back.
I used to have feelings, I used to have pleasure,
But now I’m a patron instead of a painter.

Museums and galleries, I’ve seen them all,
And stood and admired them hall after hall.
I gaze at my hands which now are arthritic
And barely recall when I was artistic.

These portraits of me and my family and friends
Were painted long ago, ‘fore they all met their ends.
But I can still walk through the halls to see something sweet,
While I feel a few tears tickle my cheek.

There’s something real beautiful
About the melancholy that surrounds past joys plentiful.
I want to be sober,
but what if
this headache'
this toothache,
this heartache,
these aches
never end?
It all just hurts so bad,
and all I can think of are
these pills sitting on my desk
and how much all I wanted to be was
Sober
Slime-God Dec 7
Pigment of the evening
overwhelming, by thought
artfully winding, and weaving,
for naught.
Though your vision is endless
your colour needs work,
it’s drab, unto darkness,
your pallet’s berserk.

You must change;

You must change how you’re feeling.
From bottom to ceiling,
I swear that you’re healing.
Disregard the unfeeling,
forget that you’re reeling.
Do not be caught kneeling
in thoughts now congealing-
to naught-
but the pealing-
of bells;

Or be lost.

Not to life,
but to cause.
Draped in strife,
trapped in was.
this one ended sooner than I had intended.
Brando Dec 6
To be sober is to be free
     Free from that desire
          That need
To be sober is to have a clear mind
     Be able to think
          Realize where you are
To be sober is to be tired
     Tired of the state you were in
          But ready for the change
to be sober is to be alone
     alone with your thoughts
          the thoughts of past present and future
               alone with yourself
                    and the place you have put yourself in
to be sober is to be ashamed
     ashamed of the damage you’ve caused
          the people who have walked away
               and the ones you have hurt
                    the wounds you have left
                         so deep and unforgettable
to be sober is to be alive
     you were given the ability to feel
          feel all the things you once pushed so deep down inside of you
               all those emotions that led you to the addiction come
               back all at once
to be sober is to feel different
     you feel reborn
          new and unusual
               your first breathe as a human being taste so sweet
to be sober is a figment of my imagination
     these thoughts aren’t attainable
          this is the life I’ve chosen
               there is no turning back
                    so I cozy up at the bar
                         and drink away the pain
                              the addiction controls me
to be sober is a dream
Annie Nov 27
Cloudy;
my world is
hazy
tound the edges.

I’m walking with a
vignette filter
on my eyes,
like glasses I can’t remove.

But I’m sober,
I think.
I’ve been high, yes,
most days;
but not today.
I’ve drunk, yes,
always too much;
always ending in aches and
some sorrow;
but that was last night;
not today.

I already know that tomorrow’s
forecast is cloudy
too.
July .18
Slime-God Nov 26
Sober again,
Sombre again,
paranoia creeps out
the closet again

little bit of panic,
little bit of Popov
lose a little pride
but control yourself

take hold, yourself
never let your thoughts wander
or you lose yourself;

don’t lose yourself
French rose Nov 25
I'll drink till I'm sober
I'll drink my sadness away
I'll drink until I forget the words DRUNk in love
IDK what this is but here anyway
refresh mesh Nov 20
Obesity and malnourishment
from high tides of anxiety

Gargling on plastic-filled saline
trapped by ancient propriety

Stuffed into a submissive pit
deprived of real variety

Our vices clearly failing
while we ridicule sobriety

This hunger's for the birds
because we live in a society
A small sip won’t sink the ship, no need to walk on water Peter!
Even a dark spot on a light skin is called a beauty spot,
A bottle a day keeps an uncle awake.

My drunk uncle rewrite history in his confused stories
“Moses built the Ark, Jonah ate the fruit, and Eve raised dry bones”

Maker of miracles always have a penny for a bottle
Like he turned the ocean water into wine
He never gets sober.
I believe in writing whatever I feel like and whatever comes to my mind, too often it has revealed how amazing I have experienced most things in life. There is always a light in every darkness.
Clink, clink, clink goes the ice in the glass.
Golden whiskey trickles down their side.
Goosebumps rise and chest starts to burn.
Swallowing another memory she wished had died.
Allison Wonder © 2018
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