A Yorks Jan 19
Morning comes and the sun is shining down,
In through my windowpanes;
Bottlescaps scattered on the bedroom floor;

Rolling out of bed, thinking to myself,
When will this cycle end?
Reach for a bottle as I make my way to the door.

I just want to feel okay for a change,
Is that so wrong of me?
So I take another drink
And fill my body with demons I can't see

Evening comes and the sun is going down;
I'm stumbling through my door;
Got a bottle lined up for the night;

Hit the bottom and I'm still not satisfied —
I guess a second's fine;
Six or seven and I'll start to feel alright.

I just want to feel okay for a change,
Is that so wrong of me?
So I take another drink
And fill my body with demons I can't see
You can listen to Demons and other songs by A. Yorks at https://luftjaeger.bandcamp.com/
A Yorks Jan 15
Wir hoben ein letztes mal die Gläser
— die waren aber völlig leer
Und sagten unserer Sünde Lebewohl
— Warfen die ins reißendes Meer.

Auf dich, O Teufel, Alkohol!
— dachte mal, du warst mein Freund
Hätte ich denn besser gewusst,
— würde ich denn alles bereuen?

Du, O Dämon in der Nacht,
— der meine Jahre gestohlen hat,
Durch dich ist alles zum Verlust,
— hör mich jetzt wohl — ich hab es satt.

Nimm dein Abschied,
Kein Blick zurück,
Hier gibt es gar kein Platz für dich,
O Teufel, Alkohol.
Dakota Jan 4
yesterday i got blood on my jeans
from opening the scrape on my knee
i got three days ago, slipping in the shower,
drunk as hell before noon.
my dad told me to leave the rest of his beer
after i took five in twenty four hours.
i wonder if he realizes how bad i am.
i have to have at least one drink
before i see anyone, just to loosen up.
i drink throughout the day,
not caring what time i start.
my boy expressed concern
about all my empty beer cans.
i decided six hours ago
i would take a break from drinking
but my friend gave me a jelly jar of vodka
and i keep telling her i’ll stop, as i pour another.
“i’m going to not drink for two weeks,”
i say as my speech begins to slur.
how many will be my ‘last drink?’
will i make it two weeks?
will i care? does it fucking matter?
there will always be new blood on my jeans.
Buckley Grace Dec 2017
Breathe in my smile
Smoke my voice like a cigar
Drink my laughter like poison soaked wine
My grapes soaked in tears
Inject my perfume
Into your yearning veins
Let me be your substance
Baby, stay addicted to my love
I’ll protect you from the pain
Natalie Dec 2017
maybe it's the fact i've been living in garbage, surrounded by rotting food and dirty laundry, because i can't find the energy to get out of bed, because i've been to depressed to anything but eat and feel sorry for myself and stew in not only my own sweat and dirt but my suicidal thoughts.

maybe it's the yellowing teeth because of the countless cigarettes i smoked to get the approval i craved of my boyfriend--sorry, EX boyfriend--who dumped me for seeking acceptance from his friends because it reeked of narcissism, because i was acting out of low self esteem and desire for validation.

maybe from the early signs of gum disease because of the substance abuse i was groomed to believe was the new vogue, or because blacking out every night is what freshman do and not a concerning coping mechanism i was using to hide a bigger issue.

maybe it's a result of the judgmental looks and comments on my worth from men and women alike because of my self medication in the form of intimacy and sexual attention--the ease at which i could be led to bed: through a lazy, slurred compliment and promises of a ride home in the morning (and not to mention means of keeping my mind off of my trauma.) or how after spending my last $10 at the bar i would consistently rely on my ability to give a peep show of the same body that was violated a year ago for a free shot of tequila that burned all the way down and a grimy slice of lime.

or maybe it's because despite it being over 365...366...367...too many fucking days since his filthy hands and body introduced itself to mine uninvited, despite not 1 but 2 police reports, despite 5...6...7...endless calls with victims advocates, despite 1...2...who knows how many failed semesters, despite 1 too many failed suicide attempts....

i was still raped.
trigger warning: sexual assault, substance abuse, depression, PTSD, panic disorder, suicide
Jordyn Calderon Nov 2017
did you really love me?
or were you too busy
making out with white lines
forced by the hunger
starvation
to feel something.
anything.
i'm sorry
i know its selfish of me but i
can't help but wish i could've been what you longed for.
and maybe i'll never be.
maybe it'll always be this circle of me loving
you leaving
me justifying and the
both of us lying to cover up the painful truth
that we’re both
dying.
you from a lackluster life
me from hypothermia.
cold from your shoulder
cold from your glassy eyed stare
cold from too many nights staying up alone
blood shot eyes
shaky hands
scribbling notes madly
not mad with passion
or love or even some
narcissistic desire to mark my spot before i burn out like the sun.
I write with pain
words fucking exploding out of me
making themselves known like an involuntary tic
lurching my body
my body ridding itself of a vile poison
of the vile words you put in my head in the first place
so you ask me why the hell am i still here.

and all i can say is that
i don't know.

i was hoping the saying blood is thicker than water


still counts
that maybe in some parallel universe
you could still be my mom
before your love for the ivory
took you away.
inspired by a cousins mother, an addict.
Zero Nine Nov 2017
Thought I was high
Then, I felt a memory
Thought I was high
Thought I was safe
Then, I felt some emotion

What if I sold my soul for the green of grass?
What if I smoke my ambition in a bowl?
What if I bake the little dough I make?
What if I'm red-eye all day?

Then, I'm a peasant.

What if I send my nightmares away, ablaze?
What if I exchange the pain in my body for body rolls?
What if I buy a ticket to ride, unafraid of eyes?
What if I'm dead all day already?

Then, I'm lifted.
helena alexis Sep 2017
she met molly at a festival
molly made her happy
molly made her dance
molly made her forget

we’re gonna be best friends forever
molly whispered in her ear

she popped another
forever and ever
she replied with a smile
took molly at a rave and decided to write about it
Carter Ginter Sep 2017
I'm sitting there reading your letter
And crying because
I didn't know I didn't know I didn't know
Take a hit.
I didn't know I was so bad
Take a hit.
I didn't know I hurt you so much before
Kiss her kiss her kiss her
The voices whisper
But I don't want to
And I feel like the voices are just my thoughts
That I transform into other sounds
To avoid my own responsibility
Take a hit.
I didn't know how heartless I was
I thought I did my best to make you happy
But you cried yourself to sleep
I didn't know I didn't know
You begged for my attention
I didn't know
Take a hit.
I want to blow my brains out
Because my chest is so empty
I feel my decaying heart turning to stone
Take a hit take a hit
I didn't know
I didn't..
Kiss her
I'm fine.
Carter Ginter Sep 2017
Did I ever tell you
Why I stopped drinking?
Why I am so terrified
To take a sip alone?
How that one time after class
My heart was broken
And I skipped the glass
And drank straight from the bottle?
How I crumbled into a ball
Under my favorite blanket
My mind screaming through the halls
Fighting off the demons trying to drown me?
Of course I always want to die
That's something I've learned to live with
But never before in my life
Had I known that I could give in.
Yet there I lay crying
Wasted with a racing mind
Begging to give in to dying
But instead I went to sleep.
So when my depression intensifies
And I run to my substances
I am so terrified
So alcohol is the last option.
Because it could be my last decision.
Next page