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KC Jun 2017
If you follow me
I can teach you to keep up with my pace

You'll be the tone
I'll be the tempo

Follow me
and you will learn you never knew good mornings
until the sun rise was replaced by me

I will be your caffeine
your whiskey in a tea cup

I can show you the world that I know
like the back of my hand
as you eat out of the palm

You will learn to bite the hand that feeds you
and the lips

And you will believe the dead eyes that tell you
"You’re the best I ever had"

I will be on my knees
but it will be you doing the begging

I will consume you
until you can’t even close your eyes
without being reminded of the nights
I refused and used to spend with you

I will let you kiss my neck
and teach you to read the goose bumps
you create on my skin
like braille

Until the day comes
when my body speaks a language
you no longer understand

And that day you will say
I am the girl your mother warned you about

But silly boy,
your mother’s never met a girl like me
Jessica Schwartz May 2017
All these whiskey loving gentlemen,
Just trying to find some peace again.
They're fighting off questions,
Of their intentions and their existance.
They run the night with wild women,
And they always walk with rhythm.
And it's quieting their demons,
But they're screaming for a reason.
Mihir Kulkarni May 2017
She doesn't think
I'm much of a guy...
I meant much of
An interesting guy.
I did say "interesting" before...
Didn't I?

Why?
Why does it matter?
Oh I love her I think...
We will go well together,
Like bread and jam
wait.. a better rhyme...
Like bread and "butter".

I must tell you...
The amount of efforts I make!
Even wrote her a poem to which
She said "For God's sake!
We are not in 19th century. Get new..."
It made me feel like leftover cake.

"Swag", she said
Something you lack ***;
I opened net and googled it
After our short conversation.
The guys must do this and that
Looking at it I went into depression!
(Have you seen the latest trends?
I'm soooo far behind. oh good heaven!)

Back home I sunk in my sofa low
I was ****** exhausted,
Nothing I did pleased her
Didn't get her one bit excited;
She wanted someone bad and strong
And all she got was a guy *******.

Why is it that...
Her crush drinks a bottle of whiskey down,
In one gulp and calls her cutie pie.
And I can't even pull off a leather jacket,
I'm just a ******* teetotaler orange juice guy.
In this world full of jibber-jabber,
I look at her as if She's my only high!

Okay!
So I'll love her silently and pray,
Like how Earth keeps Moon
Neither too close nor far away;
A miracle is all I hope for
(like the guy she loves shifting to Burma)
Then she'll have no other way!

I know...
I'm not a bad boy!
Why o God you've made me this nice?!
She loves to play with fire and you've
And you've...
Made my heart outta ice!
Sometimes you feel bad that you're a good guy.
Dakota May 2017
4:30 AM.
I needed the lucky cigarette
but didn’t smoke it.
You were downstairs sleeping
though I had had too much coffee
to be able to join you.
All of that coffee was mixed
with whiskey creamer; I threw up
the next morning.
You were calm about everything,
keeping me from going over the edge.

4:30 AM.
I was staring at the snow
thinking about your touch
while the smoke fogged my room.
I needed your arm around me
as I contemplated a life different
to the one I’d been living.
The one I’m still living,
but having you around
makes it a hell of a lot easier.
Hannah Apr 2017
I started writing
to get the pain out.
I needed a way
to claim a voice
in a ruthless world.
I couldn't find it
any other way.
I've tried everything,
but nothing
gives me a voice like poetry.
I've found things
that numb my pain,
like whiskey
and cigarettes.
I use them still,
even since
I've found my voice.
I'm addicted
to the way
they pair with my soul.   
It's kind of like
poets and coffee,
poets go well
with whiskey
and cigarettes too.
I think us poets,
we're addicted
to pain and suffering.
I think we like
the sting of heartbreak,
the pain of death,
the clutches of addiction.
In fact,
I know we do
because these
are the sufferings
that make up our work.
I'm a poet,
just like you.
I'm addicted
to coffee,
to whiskey and cigarettes,
to pain and suffering,
to loss and heartbreak.
I think it's why
so many of us
struggle to look
into the mirror.
It's because we know
our hearts are poison.
It's because we know
we can either
be monsters or angels.
It all depends on us,
on how we want
to roll the dice.
~ monsters or angels ~
Jeremy Anderson Mar 2017
Fluttering at shutter speed.
Is it my heart inside my chest,
or my lungs palpitating.

It is my veins.  
Rushing with blood, or collapsing for lack of.

It is my stomach. Eating away its own lining;
Acidic paint splattered across its walls. Whitewashing them
With every sporadic convulsion I feel.

A fortnight,
No sleep.

When I do sleep, I do not sleep.

I am depressed. Unhappy.  Not entertained.  

Overly-dramatic.

Questioning every decision I’ve ever made about life,
I inflate with anger.

I think about opportunities passed.

I revolt with envy when I see artists prevail.

I am a miserable **** brimming with unseen talent.




I miss cigarettes.

I miss *******.

Cheap whiskey and grinding my teeth
until 2 in the afternoon when my bloodshot eyes’ll tell you more
than you could ever learn reading my palms.

Fake prophesies of people who never really cared,

and rooms lit up with cheap disco lights and moist carpets.
Perfectly ripened with mildew and sweat and DNA.


The saved lives of unborn infants.


The lucky few.
Kay Ireland Mar 2017
I witnessed your birth.
Oak barrel wombs,
unknown fathers.
They presented you with so much pride
that I felt guilty refusing a taste.
So smooth.
Too smooth.
Unnatural.
Fire should not destroy so calmly.

You witnessed my redemption.
Your name on his tongue
returned me to a Dublin distillery
but I did not fear you.
His offering was one of comfort.
You didn’t hurt as much
with his eyes on me,
my lipstick on the rim of his cup.
I was perfectly warm
in the dead of winter.
Fire should not destroy so calmly.

You will witness my unapologetic sins.
I swig straight from the bottle
to prepare for my numb lips against his;
our numb tongues ruining lives.
It won’t hurt anymore.
You gave me courage.
You showed me intimacy, unflinching,
with your solo cup facade.
You put my heart in his hands
and watched us test the waters,
gently.
You will be there
when we collide again.
Fire should not destroy so calmly.
Sebastian Macias Mar 2017
If you've felt the floor
At the bottom of your cave
After falling 40 feet
Blood across your lips
Body slammed across
The field of rocks and dirt
Unable to move
Days go by slower
All you can hear are screams
As you shut your eyes
If you've been there, my friend
You've felt the thirst
Which nothing can tame
It's in the air at night
In your bones at light
The eyes are majestic
The feeling is soft
And your veins are cold
It is all you want
To reach out and take it
Ravage it over and over
As it asks for more
******* out the life
And breathing into yours
It drives you mad with frenzy!
Rushing all over your body
And you can't stop till
You've had enough
Floating away with the waves
Waiting to come back for more
Sebastian Macias Mar 2017
She howled late at night
Whispering secrets to me
Through the winds
Eyes glowed in the dark
The blanket of light above
Pitch black 5 feet away
Up close, all too real
It's cold tonight, I thought
Whiskey in the fire
A table full of dreams
A book shelf of the dead
A wild path in the rain
Even the river we will cross
With bare feet and sore eyes
Becoming part of her
Becoming part of it all
Megan H Mar 2017
I reached for the bottle of whiskey
Because I didn't want to feel anything.
Then I reached for the bottle of *****
Because I wanted to feel something.
Then I reached for the bottle of wine
Because I wanted to relax in the midst of chaos.
Now I reach for nothing at all
Because I don't know what's real anymore.
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