Enzo 7d
You were my happy pill,
A drug I would chug down with sugar and wine
Giving me medicine for my sins

You were the substance to my life
The substance that I abused
Getting me high so I dont feel the lows
Knocking me out into sleep every night

With you, I was a ******
Always happy and all jumpy
Getting funky and needy

But since you've been gone I'm relapsing
Rehashing the feelings of intoxication
Missing it, craving it, wanting it, needing it
Rehashing it:
Missing you, crazing you, wanting you  needing you
Get high
Anxiety sips from me
as though I’m it’s only bird feeder in the area
Depression eats away at me
as though I can only suffice for half of it's needs
And tonight? It’s hungry as it’s ever been.
Trauma kills me
As if it was an eagle looking for roadkill
Me being the roadkill
Drug abuse nailed me in the head waiting to **** me.
Waiting to **** me due to the fact I've been defeated.
So there they sit, all trying to defeat, the defeated me.

Bite me.
Mince your words,
You've done it before.
Bow like you're in the presence of Royalty.
He's royal.
Lording over you, after all.
But he's short.
They're all short.
Yet you...
The self-proclaimed miser,
King of the words,
You have nothing of substance to say.
What a plot twist.
What a change.
You weakling.
Confidence doesn't suit you.
It doesn't match your eyes.
Hypocrisy, a great design on you.
It brings out the color
Of your lies.
Substance
Ellison Jan 6
The brother I knew
From years ago, many a few
We shared each other's brains
And explored our fears and troubled pains

But along came another friend
That took us for a ride, and we called him a godsend
He never hesitated to show us good fun
And my brother and I sang under the black hole sun

But I never saw the friend
Slip my brother a shady end
And from then on
My brother was gone.

His face grew desolate
Like the sands of a desert
And his body was slouched
Like a lizard sleeked on a rock
And the friend had long burned away
So my brother was left billowing in the wind
His brain had effectively been compromised by fate
Or some sort of being that dared to appear in the deadly hate
And I tried to reason him back to reality and back to the life we knew

But the friend had taken him away.
This is not a poem.

I love being drunk
Knowing I have no inhibitions
Depending on dependency
Letting stray thought portray predominance
I'll drink to that
Another round, let it bruise my reputation
The tortured artist, the bovine of my heart
Phobos and Deimos, her love is Continental
All happy mistakes under my influence
The mess I write in poetry
To disgrace the art of English
With the abuse of substance
And abandon the art
For the love of escapism

I want to run
I've invested in a talent I've mistaken
For one I own
I'm not meant to be a poet
I'm an inebriated sonnet
I run with my pencil
And detail my fears with lead
I write down my concerns
And share my tears
No one sees you cry
In words that don't even try
The ending of my story
Is burnt like firewood
A warm torture to me
Is left like soot

I'm no lyricist
I can't capture my thoughts into song
It's a pain I've yearned and longed to discern
This story has been written a thousand times
And no matter my rhymes, I can never tell it
The scorn I feel
The anxiety I wield
My corner I reside in
Crippled by myself
And yet
Intoxicated
I know not who I really am
Due to my suffering
My assured numbering
My days
Nothing but digits
Monetary liquor
A stigma seen despicable
Let it be mine
I know who I am
Despicable
Undesirable
Struggle with who I am
Ill dependable
Easily
Meant to be
I am all I know
Thoughts to be written
A poet, ninety nine percent
No thought I share is consent
But to admit defeat
I relinquish my seat
In harmony
The peace
The solidified and concealed retreat
I can not hide in poetry

I must admit defeat in stanzas
It is not about the rhymes
I'll abandon tradition
Let speak the force of denial
"I"
"I"
It's all I hear
It's all I know
I can't speak for others
For they have no share in what I know
Conclude this disgrace
My inebriation do all but deface
What could have been great
Yet I abandon for another eight

I've come so far
Yet I have no title
I struggle with substance abuse
Let me define my confusion as your subtitle
Bring no attention to this, it isn't deserving of it. Let me drown in abandoned likeness like I was meant to.
George Krokos Oct 2018
Substance and its illusion
is the basis of confusion.
____
From "Simple Observations" ongoing writings since the early '90's
paige cochran Oct 2018
light up
take a puff
blow it out
gone with the wind
itll be fuzzy soon

push down and twist to open
snag a few
down the hatch
with a swig of that drink
you stole from your parents

open that bottle of drink
sip sip sip
oh it burns
but it burns so good
shh, youre starting to get woozy!
self destruction is my calling
Enzo Oct 2018
Take a sniff off of the good stuff
Let it numb your thoughts and ease the pain
Smell it some more and
Inhale the grains

The powdered love now in your veins
Let it hold you, let it mend you
Get wasted, lose your senses
Be free from your thoughts
Chase out the bad things by doing this bad deed
Drug induced stress reliever
You live to be gold -
your blood, veins, nerves, heart, thoughts, deeds -
or just gold-plated.
the only thing more difficult than doing it alone
is admitting you can't
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