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#alchohol
did the whiskey make you feel better, even though it burned your throat? you swear you're not like the other boys who drink it and then gloat. did the hand-rolled joints make you feel cool, even though your mouth tastes like **** you swear you aren't addicted, you just don't want to quit. did the things you did too young help your life at all? you did drugs, broke your heart, and hurt yourself when you were still way too small.
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4d ago
May 31, 2026 at 2:28 AM UTC
a letter to me a week ago
Im going home, I dont know what to. I suppose the river, and the woods, the cold icy streets that hold so much sentiment. Ill be too sober in the day. Ill be too drunk at night. Old friends wont know me, while they all seem the same. So much pain, and love, and words unsaid, watering my roots in that town. Im going home, but am I?
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Nov 25, 2020
Nov 25, 2020 at 8:07 AM UTC
Going Home
Closer than my jugular vein, you flow through sacred passages until you reach the part of me where everything resides. You tap into my nerves. My firmament gives way to you, and I melt into your depths, the one place where I can feel secure. I mediate on you, and I can feel your warmth radiate through me, until we're glowing like embers on a wind-chilled night. We make a pretty good team, you and I. Let's stay together a while longer, just until I can get back on my feet. Hold me close, in your smothering embrace; I'll wash my hands in you, and be absolved.
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May 31, 2020
May 31, 2020 at 1:20 PM UTC
On the Excessive Consumption of Alcohol (For Therapeutic Purposes)
my eyes are drawn to your white lettering and black label. my soul is rather fired up by that substance inside you. my lips, by the taste. “don’t do this to yourself, you’ve been good all this time.” “you’ve been steering clear, you’ve been attending your meetings.” i tell myself, as i reach in my pocket and rustle through the chips i‘ve collected all this time as reward for learning to live without you. but **** that smell. the way you feel inside me. the way you make my head shake. the way you make me forget. you taste of liquor, my dear, and i’m a recovering alcoholic. oh **** i’m sorry...correction. was a recovering alcoholic. so a toast, to your wonderfully devilish eyes, and to another relapse. -melancholicreator
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Nov 9, 2019
Nov 9, 2019 at 6:18 PM UTC
relapse
People dissolve feelings dissolve I'll dissolve this city will dissolve Those people with liquor Those people with sticky lips While with other sit and sip They claim it is ichor That runs through their veins Liquor is just a chain That grips their brains At night into false blissfulness But when sober they know sinfulness People dissolve feelings dissolve When will I dissolve Will i dissolve before i find resolve Will i feel unfinished in life And left like a ***** knife For sinners To eat with over dinner
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Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 1:20 PM UTC
Dissolve
Well these ******* naps have got me waking up drunk. Broken knuckles and scars I don't remember. So many days spent in a daze, Drinking and smoking haze. A complex distraction for a complex problem. It's killing me, I know, but maybe that's better than nothing at all. How can you ask a self destructive mess to not be paranoid. All the nights I spend hating myself Analysis to a grand scale, of every miniscule detail. Every second of the sunset, every plant that grows I turn to dust. Why can I only ruin this paradise, Too late to save someone, too ****** up to let someone love me. This is pain, Ruining my chances and knowing what I've done. Hating myself for the actions I do, and the things I don't say. Blaming myself, constantly. But let's do another line, and wash it down with spirits, Drown them in substances and pretend we're okay until it kills us.
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Jun 17, 2018
Jun 17, 2018 at 7:48 PM UTC
******* Naps
Sitting in my trailer Sleeveless shirt and cut off jeans Chasing each tall ***** With some Jack and shots of Beam Struggling with my issues In the past and from today Sitting in my trailer Drinking my tomorrows all away Another day of heartbreak I got dumped, what the hell There was not even a phone call It was by electronic mail Bits and bytes of rejection flying through electronic space Just to tell me "I don't love you" I got emailed in the face Sitting in my trailer Sleeveless shirt and cut off jeans Chasing each tall ***** With some Jack and shots of Beam Struggling with my issues In the past and from today Sitting in my trailer Drinking my tomorrows all away A week ago I was fired Went to work like every day found the door locked and all boarded He ******* off with all my pay No notice, and no phone call Just a sign upon the door A cardboard notice of rejection Saying "you don't work here no more" Sitting in my trailer Sleeveless shirt and cut off jeans Chasing each tall ***** With some Jack and shots of Beam Struggling with my issues In the past and from today Sitting in my trailer Drinking my tomorrows all away My dog ran off last weekend Left the house and ain't come back He ran off with that pack of dogs And he ain't coming back I bought him as a puppy Now he's left and he's long gone But he left a pile of rejection On the corner of my lawn Sitting in my trailer Sleeveless shirt and cut off jeans Chasing each tall ***** With some Jack and shots of Beam Struggling with my issues In the past and from today Sitting in my trailer Drinking my tomorrows all away My tomorrow's may be better But then again, I'm not so sure I've got the blues from this rejection And I don't think there's a cure so I sit here in my trailer Drinking the same thing every day Sitting in my ripped t-shirt Drinking all my tomorrows away
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Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 8:22 PM UTC
Drinking my Tomorrows away
Sitting in my trailer Sleeveless shirt and cut off jeans Chasing each tall ***** With some Jack and shots of Beam Struggling with my issues In the past and from today Sitting in my trailer Drinking my tomorrows all away Another day of heartbreak I got dumped, what the hell There was not even a phone call It was by electronic mail Bits and bytes of rejection flying through electronic space Just to tell me "I don't love you" I got emailed in the face Sitting in my trailer Sleeveless shirt and cut off jeans Chasing each tall ***** With some Jack and shots of Beam Struggling with my issues In the past and from today Sitting in my trailer Drinking my tomorrows all away A week ago I was fired Went to work like every day found the door locked and all boarded He ******* off with all my pay No notice, and no phone call Just a sign upon the door A cardboard notice of rejection Saying "you don't work here no more" Sitting in my trailer Sleeveless shirt and cut off jeans Chasing each tall ***** With some Jack and shots of Beam Struggling with my issues In the past and from today Sitting in my trailer Drinking my tomorrows all away My dog ran off last weekend Left the house and ain't come back He ran off with that pack of dogs And he ain't coming back I bought him as a puppy Now he's left and he's long gone But he left a pile of rejection On the corner of my lawn Sitting in my trailer Sleeveless shirt and cut off jeans Chasing each tall ***** With some Jack and shots of Beam Struggling with my issues In the past and from today Sitting in my trailer Drinking my tomorrows all away My tomorrow's may be better But then again, I'm not so sure I've got the blues from this rejection And I don't think there's a cure so I sit here in my trailer Drinking the same thing every day Sitting in my ripped t-shirt Drinking all my tomorrows away
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I'll keep it to myself. Let it tear me apart, From the inside out. You know, some people never change. Sometimes, its better off that way. And as the maggots come to be, They rest in the best parts of me. So go ahead, Shut lock that door, Those places aren't special no more. Soon enough there won't be a single piece, Left of who I use to be, But maybe its better off this way, Maybe ill start over someday. Oh no, im not scared to die, I just dont think I can look, Into your pale blue eyes. It might be a silly fear, But a promise is a promise my dear. So ill keep it to myself. There's no point in letting it out. Its fading and decaying anyway, I already can't recall yesterday. Dont want you to see what I have become, I wash my guilt away with long walks and *** Oh no, it dont help that much. But nothing does after you've lost touch. So I'll keep it to myself.
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Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 5:34 PM UTC
Im a magnet for your maggots
It burned as it went down my throat, It was warm when It settled in It was a rush when it finally hit me But by that time you were in glory Vulnerable to anything This is not me My blood flushes through my body faster than ment to be   losing control, enjoying this lust Maybe who I was isn't really who im supposed to be I want this to be me
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Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 6:00 PM UTC
The Bottle Of Lust
We've reached that point Where we depend on alchohol To have a good time It's just a given thing I'm not complaining But is it that any different To a drug?
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Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 7:29 AM UTC
Accepted [Thought II]
Girls wear stiletto's so that they are that much further from the ***** soaked floor. hands on hips and lips sips from scarlet letter stained straws. Men don't know where to put their hands. On hips and lips dips tastes forbidden fruit off her trees please. People in the blender ice breaking, mixer shaking As close as we can get but lonely like debris in the storm room spinning ears ringing no one winning, everyone sinning and no one caring
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Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 1:31 PM UTC
Friday at the Broadway
I drink away the pain because I can no longer cut it out but give me a chance and I will carve your name. I think about the day because I no longer remember the nights but give me a chance and I will forget the days too. I smile when I remember our memories because they have always been my favorites but give me the chance and I will forget them all. Let me stop drinking.
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Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
Alchoholic
We worry about why we exist but our only purpose is to fall in love with a masterpiece created by a god so lonely he had to invent an audience. So if every one of us is one and we are all god maybe that's why I don't see shooting stars, but I look up and fall in love with every wish I will never make. Maybe when we drink wine we lose a sense of self. Because we are not humans, but we are something much bigger. Maybe that's why when we drink we get hiccups. Because hiccups attempt to shock the mind back to consciousness. Thinking is a drug and drugs are just spiritual defibrillators.
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Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 6:30 PM UTC
Mindlessness
Last night at a party I had five shots And five revelations along with them Thank you, tiny sweet shot glass for Burning away inhibitions. Burning hot, liquescent cinnamon Goes straight to my knees and my phone As I sat on the kitchen counter, texting, And I had some things to say that          I never dared to before. One: Like how when I thought that you wanted me, I was an apparition that had been trying to break the veil between two worlds, to no avail and you with your kind eyes           resurrected me.   Two: That I’ve never been noticed by a good man. Nor have I noticed any. You were sugar and spice, but telling someone that you miss them and then never fulfilling the sweet promise of someday,          isn’t very nice at all. Three: The first time you told me I was beautiful I couldn’t believe you. Because I always believed that complements were gifts men gave to women to remind us that we are only our bodies. And as a girl who is most comfortable when she retreats deep within the recesses of her imagination I find this troubling. Besides what good is beauty when it only           serves to make sweeter my fire. Four: the second and third and fourth time you called me beautiful I believe you meant it . Because you offered up those treats without demanding payment and I thought that’s what respect was, what longing was. And it felt good to be wanted for more than my body but still... I felt the heavier meaning your words And your eyes spoke in sonnets And the more you said it the more I needed to hear it.I had never needed to hear it before you. But your insistence that I am beautiful made me want you and for the first time            I let myself want. Five: I hate that if you called me right now I would go to you, in a heartbeat. I hate that you inspire poetry so cliche. That everything I  feel about you is as the Sun rises each day: Spectacular yet under appreciated. I hate that I make excuses for you. That I understand how you could forget about me, change your mind about me. I hate that I don’t think you did anything wrong. I hate that I should hate you but I can’t press send because I’m still hoping that you will come back to me, like how the Sun longs to share the sky                       with the Moon I took your words like a shot of whiskey, nervous at first and then all at once. They tasted like heaven, and burned like hell, a confusion of syrupy sweet nothings (nothing because that's all we ever were) and the sting of your silence when you left town. When I first saw you I wrote a poem about how I didn't know your name and I  was not brave enough to ask. I knew you were going to be important but I didn’t know then that        the afterthought of you would                                 burn so much.
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May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
An Ode to Fireball Whiskey
Last night at a party I had five shots And five revelations along with them Thank you, tiny sweet shot glass for Burning away inhibitions. Burning hot, liquescent cinnamon Goes straight to my knees and my phone As I sat on the kitchen counter, texting, And I had some things to say that          I never dared to before. One: Like how when I thought that you wanted me, I was an apparition that had been trying to break the veil between two worlds, to no avail and you with your kind eyes           resurrected me.   Two: That I’ve never been noticed by a good man. Nor have I noticed any. You were sugar and spice, but telling someone that you miss them and then never fulfilling the sweet promise of someday,          isn’t very nice at all. Three: The first time you told me I was beautiful I couldn’t believe you. Because I always believed that complements were gifts men gave to women to remind us that we are only our bodies. And as a girl who is most comfortable when she retreats deep within the recesses of her imagination I find this troubling. Besides what good is beauty when it only           serves to make sweeter my fire. Four: the second and third and fourth time you called me beautiful I believe you meant it . Because you offered up those treats without demanding payment and I thought that’s what respect was, what longing was. And it felt good to be wanted for more than my body but still... I felt the heavier meaning your words And your eyes spoke in sonnets And the more you said it the more I needed to hear it.I had never needed to hear it before you. But your insistence that I am beautiful made me want you and for the first time            I let myself want. Five: I hate that if you called me right now I would go to you, in a heartbeat. I hate that you inspire poetry so cliche. That everything I  feel about you is as the Sun rises each day: Spectacular yet under appreciated. I hate that I make excuses for you. That I understand how you could forget about me, change your mind about me. I hate that I don’t think you did anything wrong. I hate that I should hate you but I can’t press send because I’m still hoping that you will come back to me, like how the Sun longs to share the sky                       with the Moon I took your words like a shot of whiskey, nervous at first and then all at once. They tasted like heaven, and burned like hell, a confusion of syrupy sweet nothings (nothing because that's all we ever were) and the sting of your silence when you left town. When I first saw you I wrote a poem about how I didn't know your name and I  was not brave enough to ask. I knew you were going to be important but I didn’t know then that        the afterthought of you would                                 burn so much.
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