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Molly, Billy and Mary
Those were their names
There were others
But they were my besties
Oh the fun we used to have!
Dancing, laughing and talking
We went everywhere together
Too much of a good thing in the end
My friends made me withdraw
My friends gave me false hope
So I dropped them one by one
I don’t say high to them anymore
Hope Nov 2019
I used to love the feeling it gave me
I would be up, dancing all night
And everything would be blurry
With black curtains draped over my sight
And I would laugh endlessly
Tripping over my own two feet
Admitting my love for others mindlessly
Going to sit, but missing my seat
And when I’d fall on the cold floor
With a hard thud, a scratch on my back
I’d get up to pour me more
Until my conscious would fade and the world turned black
I can’t forget the drunk flirtation
Or the way my heart beat out of my chest
Always giving into the temptation
But now I know what’s best
Because I see him
And his heart is cold
And his eyes are dim
His soul is sold
To the fuzzy feeling
He is not himself
And he needs to start healing
He will never find his own self
His words are loud and sour
His eyes are coal and soot
Because the alcohol gives him power
To stomp with his foot
And curse me all night long
Until I run away
Because I know he is too strong
And his mind is full of gray
So now I turn my back on the bottle
Out of fear that I will end up like that too
That I may now longer walk, only tottle
I want to be like me, never like you
Because to me the bottle is harmless
But to you it is your will to live
And you have turned charmless
With nothing to give
Ray Dunn Sep 2019
one with the rust,
trickling into the soils--
one more sip i just
gotta watch the smoke coil...
idk im bored and dont wanna do homework
Royce May 2019
The beer goes down and ruins the stomach,
And the insides bleed for eternity.
So what now?

     It is said that when youth drowns
The pretty angels disappear
And solitude becomes our God.

     We stare at white walls for days,
never seeing the end.

     Making chessboards out of ancient pizza boxes,
We defend against the invasion,
The chemical heroes,
With the ****** up childhood
And family full of rapists.

     I used to be world class with my musicianship,
And my daydreams use to come to life,
And I would drink whiskey early in the morning,
Before tending to my slavery.
I would ***** acid,
I would inhale everything,
I would make my mother scream,
“Stop pretending to be a GOD!” She would say.
“Leave me alone,” I would say.
Still drunk, or sick.
A real hero.
Martin May 2019
My calendar is empty, June to December,
Ingesting synthetic Alzheimer's, ‘til I can't remember,
All the days in my life, all the days in the year,
Rejecting all the advice, that I can't even hear,

I can cater to longing, I can cater to needs,
But not to my future, and not to my dreams,
I pick the poison I deserve, to get the push and the shove,
That I need to run away, from all the things that I'm sick of.

I am made of oil, my worlds made of water,
In can never connect, but as I grow hotter,
My body and mind, they bend with straits,
The currents of life, they crush me like weights,
I bubble, blend and break, I float and I sink,
I can't stop drifting apart, so all I do is drink,
Bits of me are scattered, all around me, it seems,
But I couldn't hope to get them back, I can't see through the seams,
Of the novice sewing job I've made of my connections,
The knots of my relationships sick up in every direction,
But all I do is float here, and watch them unravel,
My thoughts suddenly idle, like feet kicking gravel,
I can kick scream and cry, about my inaction,
But I can't bring myself to fight, I'm lost in abstraction,
Of the things in mind, conjured from quiet,
But I can't stomach it all on this ***** only diet,
All I hear is the fan in my window, and the fountain outside,
I feel the heat on my skin, and the wound in my pride,
The wind whistles in the treetops and the frog croaks persist,
But it doesn't matter now, nothing outside this room exists.

I can chase it with comfort, I can chase it with love,
But that won't let the hope in, the light from above,
Lost among my stupor and the hypnotic vapors,
All these things I can't help, tears seeping into paper.

All these things i've forgotten, all the times that are gone,
All the things I've put forward, all the things I've withdrawn,
I can cater to longing, to all the little things,
The words slide from my thoughts, water off a wing,
I'm dying, dissolving, rotting away,
It's dictating all my movements, I don't got any say,
This dysmetamorphosisis is unraveling me,
Every step is stagnant, I just couldn't foresee,

My tongue feels thick and my words won't stop slurring,
Everything is vivid but my vision is blurring,
My mind lags behind and my body moves slow,
I feel free at last, but deep down I know,
I'm killing myself, slowing as possible,
Nursing on poison, So I'm not responsible,
I can't think anymore, the words just won't come,
I scream and I cry, but my mind is still numb,
I can feel everything slipping, just what I needed,
What I crave to numb the wounds I've left untreated,
I can't muster the words, or the strength or the will,
To do what it takes, to finally distill,
My wants from my needs, my comforts from addictions,
To break out the haze, to break out of my fiction,
But for now, I am safe, swaddled in the embrace,
Of the things that will **** me, what I dare not erase,
I'm already here, why leave so soon,
It's alright, I can stop, I'm immune.
Maddie Rea May 2019
Finally got the money, took me all morning, I only have a few choices

Diving into the smell of death and the maggots, the sun isn’t hot enough while I’m sweating through my black tee

Middle of the night my stomach begging me, I go out to see how much shining weight it’s gonna take to carry me; Waiting at the yard my bones telling me to scream

Five am rolls around so I am deciding wether I live or die, fingers fly across the screen, anticipation causing the weak stomach. The text popping up, be ready, now to wait the three hour eternity, insides mutilating me. ‘Bing’ “I’ll be out in three.” Sandpaper skin, you better not ******* touch me

In the evening you’ll find me pleading with strangers, just give me what I need. Can’t you see I’m sitting here dieing, all they have to do is have a little sympathy

Soft caress of my purple brush, just another touch up. All you hear is the loud click of my heels, bass humming through my body. I’m over being fake and phony, just give me the money you now owe me. Packing up, so ready to leave, I can feel the hunger getting to me; I’m going 80 ready to pick up these five g’s knowing it will cure me

The pain is so bad I need this gun with me; my plan c just incase I decide to free myself of there monsters inside of me. Fever in my veins, ice in my brain, terrified to go back to where we came. Why can’t I leave this place; emotions gripping me, please let this substance ease my brain, only caring about this one simple thing. I can hear them all screaming my name as I no longer feel anything, all I can remember is the flash and the bang
Royce Apr 2019
I love the way a light breeze consumes me
Early in the morning, as birds chirp, and traffic growls
And the cigarette smoke nestled deep in my lungs
     Offers me death and a brief episode of pleasure.

Flashback to a youth of chaos
     Created to incite visions
Of ancient hedonistic poets
     Who were quick to fall in love,

And fell they did.

     We read them late at night,
Bodies all sprawled out on an ash-covered floor
With all the lights on
In Bruno's crack den.
Only the humble sounds of light breathing, lighters sparking,
And pages turning, could be heard within those walls.
     Anywhere else it did not matter.

     We would stock up on poison
With Woodrow's warehouse money,
     And we would search for songs that represented us.

     We made a pact that we would consume and be prolific and destruct before old age.

It's years later now.

     I'm the only one who broke that pact,
While they are all clay and bone fragments and haunting
     memories.

I should be thankful...
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