Alchohol taste right
When your heart is suffering.
It’s like dabbing it directly to the wound
And would sting like hell.

I assume that the more I consume
The happier I get.

It’s like a bizzare love triangle
Between me, reality and alchohol.
Pulling me in.
Until my world becomes blurry.

There’s no escape.
Nor I wanted to leave.
It was a dream
Where the whole world is happy.

A temporary bliss.
From the struggling reality
I don’t want to face

And here we are again
after all these years
sitting on the same couch
it feels so good to be here right now
with you
drinking alchohol until we forget who we are
and how much time we've wasted
acting foolish and ignoring eachother
we're talking about the same ****
we did 2 years ago
and still i love listening to the same story
over and over again
even when the music is loud
and  i can't hear you
oh baby i've missed you so much
don't leave me again

i wish i can flow out my emotions
and have a taste of it
maybe with a bourbon glass
anything, without complications

just to see if it hints bitterness
a glint of sadness
see if it dances with joy
i hope not for sorrow

mundane aims blandness
and i dont know anymore
seems like i cant feel anything
are they bottled like Jim Beam?

Voracity is the centipede,
hunting in a-downhill-bleed,
pull what you think is a string,
to pitch your tent,
feel the centi clench,
and incision of dopamine,
your esophagus that screams,
could have had the segments and seams,
harking back to when the earth was steam,
when night jungle shines upon it,
with a red lens,
as it devours a tarantula,
adding a segment to its length,
sense the kinship,
sense the progenitor strength,
turn your red light on,
see the red esophagus of black chiton,
run for the zenith,
before the apex makes you bleedeth,
let your bayonet it bite on,
drop in alchohol,
and as a dragon,
it will soar and fight on,

beware the apex,
only the mountain,
set your sights on,
beware the early esophagus,
of red-neon, black chiton.

now we're in the backseat,
and my stomachs turning.
maybe i just want people in my life
in an un-romantic way.
i like to get under their skin,
and steal their souls story.
i love how everyone is different,
and i can't hate a single thing,
because it makes them human;
the girls who steal bikes at midnight,
and the guys who offer their apartment
out at night.
i find myself in the wrong crowd,
i find myself in these situations,
in the backseat,
with someone who's speaks a
language far from consent
and it's all desperation.
his hands on my neck,
and there's no attraction,
physically.
mentally he has a way of making
my head spin faster than the
alchohol,
and i'm not sure if i'm
kissing him sober,
or if the night itself is drunk,
and i'm waiting for the sun to shine
a light on my mistakes,
as it always does.
i take their stories, they take mine,
but i'm not sure what part of it's true.
the girl in the backseat,
the girl shaking,
the rigid lips and bites.
maybe we won't speak,
maybe he'll lecture me again,
for using my body as a token
to pay my way.
love is an expensive thing.

His words crash around us, his miserable dark dampening everyone’s light. Your blue eyes roll high, then low, letting his hanger catch on your shoulders. I protest, claim love and want hope, but he’s well prepared; bible, violence, and stereotype in hand.
  At first, he locked his anger up tight, disguised the resentment, fought the archaic nature of his values, the great expanse of his hatred, hidden. He kept it in, fought it, failed to understand it. Finally, internal battle lost, he started leaking. Any hope for happiness killed by a diet of frozen pizza, polish sausage, and spaghetti westerns. He respects men who don’t respect women, loathes anyone who dares to think or feel more than necessary.
His eyes shift, and a creeping moustache has begun above his upper lip, framing a mouth spewing misunderstanding. You say: He makes everyone miserable. He says: Its all the cigarettes and alchohol they’ve been using. You shake your head, knowing an argument only spreads the contagion and inflames the rash.
   I forget, ask him how he knows so much about things he’s never done.  “You don’t have to try it to know,” He replies, the creeping moustache more and more evident. I roll my eyes, lay back and listen as he preaches theories  about women he’s never known, never had. How many times can he fail to realize he’s no better than anyone else. He preaches God and Christianity, but hates more than anyone, has no hope, or faith, or love, and lacks any shadow of compassion. He’s filled with violence and anger, yet claims to follow a God of love.

   He’s not tough, or hardened, or experienced, he’s afraid. Afraid to love, to lose, to understand, to hope, to accept, because it means a change.  It means growing up, throwing out comic books, drawing mor than Batman, finding friends who are real, feeling the pain, understanding the gravity, and embracing it all.

Maybe this doesn't matter at all
Especially because the way I may have treated you,
and maybe you'll never even see this,
but if you do,
I think that you should know some things.
I beat myself up a lot.
Fully responsible for the pain that you endured.
I think about you
outside
in the rain
in the gutter.
I notice you. Constantly.
In the back of my mind.
Something completely beautiful.
There's something gorgeous about the way the rain hides your tears.
About the way you look with wet hair.
I constantly want to go outside
and bring you in
and make you soup
and cocoa
and tea.
I want to help you get undressed
and dry you off,
changing into something,
soft and warm.
Safe.
I'll wrap you in a towel
and wrap you in my arms.
Tracing your figure gently,
like the road going home.
We'll construct a blanket fort.
And it'll be our secret castle.
Away from the world.
I see you shrinking.
I know that you are.
But maybe we could shrink down together
and make our fort an entire estate;
where I can make a memory with you
in each achre.
And when it gets cold,
we can scrimp and save,
and rent a dollhouse
for our summer home.
You wont have to worry
about other people seeing you sweat.
We'll close the blinds and draw the curtains
and stay naked-
vulnerable.
A place of our own creation.
You and me.
I think about the things we shared.
The late nights.
The secrets.
I always wonder how you are.
I long for you.
I crave your words like I crave
the nicotine, or the alchohol, or the abuse
that I need in order to
keep my thoughts off of you.
Sometimes I still think about it
because I'm crazy
and unfair-
jumping on a plane, I mean-
to expect you to be waiting for me on the other side.
I think about you all the time. Whether you believe me or not.
Or whatever you choose.
I dwell on you. I haven't stopped.
Like a near death experience.
The only thing that's ever really made me feel alive.
Completely whole.
******* I think about  you all the time.
Forbidden fruit. Something I shouldn't be reaching out for.
I want to dress your wounds.
Take care of you when you fall.
Douse you in antiseptic
wrap your bandages
and seal each cut with a kiss.
I haven't stopped thinking about you at all.
There is something about the way your heart makes my heart flutter.
And the way your soul speaks beautiful perfect poetry to mine.
I'd also be a liar if I said I didn't think about staring into your eyes, or the way you smell like lilacs and honey, or the peaches and cream of your skin.
My favorite dessert.
Something that I indulge in.
I want to taste you.
Every last drop.
Warm saltwater
lemon juice,
birthday cake
life giving nectar.
I've held my lips against a rose petal,
unconsciously,
wishing it were you.
Dying for the real thing.
I miss your voice. A sweet song.
Deep lulliby.
The most humbling thing I've ever heard.
Thunder
the roar of the ocean
harsh winds
butterfly wings
bubbling brooks
gentle rains.
Perfection.
I long for you with my whole being,
and whether it means anything to you or not,
I still thought that you should know.

I think there's something
always something
to be gained
by nothing
some shy away from the pitch blackness that surrounds them
lonely nights locked away in an iron cage of comforters
not a light on in the room
it really doesn't matter if they kept their eyes open or not
they all see the same thing
the darkness changes, that it does
some see the fears that plague them
some lovers of the past
some see the darkness looking back at them
seeing a sad little boy hiding under the covers
silently screaming away into the night
that he wants to be a little kid again
that he doesn't want to leave his friends behind
even though everyone knows he means the opposite
he doesn't want to go and hide under the corporate blanket
becuase it's all the same world, just different ages, different people
but we are all trying to hide under that blanket in the night
because we know that we don't want to see
whats inside that pit around us
the dreams
of what could have been

Being Drunk
Being intoxicated
A new perspective
A new understanding
You see things so differently
So profoundly
When you see the light
A new perspective arises
I see the loneliness in mysterious eyes
A lover of her purpose
To expose those to a better understanding
An amazing joyousness
I have become the pupil of alchohol
A completely different knowledge
The vibrance of all things,
The voice of each person,
A song in my left eardrum
Thoughts of others
Such an understatement of my experience
Swallow the art
Consume the knowledge
Let it pass deep into your soul
Continue to be who you are,
Complete your words,
But to understand?
A gift rapped in time.
This art taken as a substance
Where you speak,
You hear your thoughts
Insane you may call me
But I call it,
Me my thoughts,
Beautiful.
My thoughts secluded like all others
So as im told with his song he shares
Unmonotone letting me feel his thoughts
Held by my mind,
A gift.
The philosopher.

I do not walk around searching for acceptance from others.
No I do not care how many likes I get on that new selfie, I like photography and I value beauty in many ways.
No matter how much you think so,
I do not need your "incredibly life changing" word that Jesus supposedly gave you for me.
I definitely don't have to speak in tungs for God to hear me.
I don't need to have one night stands to feel loved and have worth.
I do not need your money, and no, money will NEVER fix all of your problems.
No I don't know the latest of what's happening with the kardashians, I have better things to do.
I don't need a big house I'd be fine with a one bedroom apartment.
I do not plan on marrying into money but if that happens, great.
Yes I like graffiti I think it's authentic and adds to the experience of the city.
I don't need or want **** or alchohol to have a good time.
I don't need to hear what you have to say about my make up or how I dress.
I like how I dress and I like me and I certainly  don't need your help to make me look how YOU want me to look.
I hate stereo types, I think you should too.
I like classical music and also rap.
I think to have dreams in life is a gift from God.
I see the beauty in tattoos and skin with none
I see the beauty in pale skin and the beauty in dark skin.
I don't think there is a such thing as a "normal person."
I'm real with God and talk to him about the confusions I have with him.
I say if you like ranch on your burger, get it.
I think piercings are fun.
My rooms not always clean.
And all together that sums up me:)

As any of my friends can tell you
I'm a very strange and quirky person
and so is my family
I hate hate hate coffee
But I'm also addicted to coffee ice cream
And chocolate covered expresso beans
I detest the taste of alchohol
So I'm allowed to try it whenever I want
I used to hate green tea but
My best friend mentioned he loved it
I gave it another chance, and now love it too
At my high school I'm not at all 'popular'
But everyone seems to know me
I am one of the shortest kids in my high school
But have some of the tallest friends
And they all love coffee
So if you like coffee say rawr
And if you like tea say *miaou

there are certain days on the EL
Saturday or Sunday
and the sky is orange and different clouds
and airplane streaks glowing
and all above the city

Everyone is calm
And I look blank
and I feel weeping

For the fat black woman waiting by the doors
never took a seat
her eyes are skittish
like a doe
alert for insults
she shrinks her shoulders
when people enter
or when they leave

For the older white woman across from me
pills **** alchohol something
heavy mascara eyes resigned
seeing yuppies entering at Girard
feeling the contrast
thinking what could have been
croaky voiced and thin

For children laying on seats
staring at ceilings
or plastic windows
white hair beads clacking
eyes like rocks
parent clicking at phone
yelling at phone

all pushed in an EL car
and I love them all

and together we ride

I smell a queen bee drenched in alchohol,
Dried up and soaked into a cotton ball.
One whiff and all of a sudden she is my queen bee,
Now I spend my entire life making a spoonful of honey.

Mentally and physically transformed into the form of a honey bee.

Life is a too much of a burden for you,
You need someone to live it for you!
Let my pheromone flow through you,
And listen to what I tell you to do.

You need someone like me.
You need a queen bee.

Your body is so fat,
Your wings are so small,
You should not be allowed to fly at all.
How dare you defy me!
How dare you defy your queen bee!

Bees don’t care what you say,
They will just levitate away.

Who are you to tell me what to do,
We are the many and you are the few.
You’re strong enough to hold down the seas,
But too weak to hold down the bees.
You can’t tell us what to do,
We will find a way to defy you.
I will be like a bee!
You can’t hold the bees down!

It really makes you think
Watching your blood flow down the sink
     Falling
Convulsing as I cry
No one had bothered to ask "why?"
They didn't mind when I kept my mind shut up.
But now my entire body is locked up
Before I spoke only lies
now silently I laugh at their desperate cries
They beg me to come out
They beg me to speak
But they will only hear me shriek
They have not taken any drastic measures
  and I've been in here for far too long
can they hear the reapers song?
I know they do not care,
so I have a secret to share,
The Reaper and I,
we plan to die.
We spend each moment in darkness
every minute of every day
We have realised this is to be the only way.
I'll meet her there.
In our suicide lair.
We'll down pills and alchohol and fall asleep.


It's three hours past,
Somehow I knew the pack wouldn't last,
my reaper has fled
and soon I will be dead.
I weep as they flood my system
I know that something is not right
I soon begin my agonizing fight
they will not come out
ignoring my horrified shouts
  I'm too full of fear
not enough courage when the onlookers snear
Where is my love who has helped me heal?
What have I done, and is it real?
I'm nothing more than a ripple in the ocean.
I took my life to save another.
Sala Samobójców
@The Suicide Room is where I cancel all hate.
@The Suicide Room is where I cleared my slate.



@The Suicide Room is where I sealed my Fate.

she walked in,
***** in hand and
car keys in the other.
breath smelled like
cigarettes and
alchohol mixed.
smelled horrid,
and looked
just as bad.
she stumbled in
and said,
"i will **** him!"
and i believed her.

she has the bruises and
the marks to prove how
angry she should be.

look,
i understand.
i get how you feel.
its about time you
get the help you need and
tell someone instead
of keeping it in
like you did.
thats why you
finally blew
up.

I was once a singer, a famous rock star
Every one loved me, I was so very popular
Sang with the best, up there on the stage
**** Jagger, The Beatles and even Jimmie Page
  I sang in all the big cities, all over the world
  I was so happy, being such a star, a popular girl
  Making so much money, but I was running amuck
  Forgot my friends and family, I didn't give a ****
No one else mattered, I was the important one
Forgot about my husband, and my dear little son
The things that really mattered, I'd lost all sight
There were lots of groupies, and parties every night
  Lots of *****, men, and the drugs, were never short
  If I ever felt bad, some powder I would snort
  No one ever told me, that I was doing myself harm
  By injecting all that ****, into the veins of my arm
I'd awake some mornings, feeling a ****** mess
But after some drugs, I became again, a Goddess
Everybody loved me, I was their favourite daughter
I thought the same, thought, I could walk on water
  One morning I awoke, all shattered and broke
  No alchohol to drink, and no grass for a smoke
  All my friends deserted me, left me for dead
  Said that I was definately, ****** in the head
It was all over, my life of ***, drugs and fun
My husband had long gone, and took with him my son
I had bought it all on myself, of that, there's no doubt
Spent a week in hell, just crying  and drying out
    I had lost everything, my good looks and my wealth
    And I was skin and bone, not a picture of good health
    Broken down I was, all drug ****** and spent
    Dragged myself outside, to the hospital I went
For weeks I was there, in bed on a drip
The truth and reality, I wanted to grip
Slowly I came good, to God I needed to talk
Then two weeks later, I could finally walk
    I'm living in a rehab center, at this very time
    Please don't worry about me, I'll be just fine
    I'm now a faded angel, don't deserve a lot of glory
    Just hoping that someone, learns from my sad story

You say that i don't do what you say,
you say that i don't care,
but what you don't see,
me crying in a suffocating pile of regret,
the fact that i am constantly at war,
in a war that most times takes my focus,
so sorry that i forgot one thing in a list of five,
the sound of a bottle pouring alchohol sounds like bliss to you,
but to me it sounds more like the night that she told me to **** myself,
maybe,
maybe i am a melodramatic fool,
but you cannot say,
my cousin getting beaten infront of me while i was to scared to say anything,
does not involve me,
and you saying that i don't care,
does not make me perfect,
it's more likely to be more amunition,
him,
coming at me with a taser,
you told me you weren't okay with it,
but you didn't try to stop him,
why,
why do you never stand up for me,
even after all the **** she did to me,
you react so much to me not doing my chores,
and everyone always tells me to relax,
sorry,
i'm sorry that you would rater drink wine,
And I'm sorry you'd rather smoke ***,
But for this Destiny I am not,
I am nothing but a suit of armor waiting for the next person,
Waiting for the next person to use me,
But as little children painted with the perfect life,
Stop to tap or bang or just admire,
I turn my head away,
Because I cannot feel guilt for something I'm not involved in,
But this armor is painted silver,
But underneath is a paper wrapped heart,
That has so many dents,
And so many craters,
That it looks like the moon,
Cascading over the water,
The water that I am drowning in,
Am I really the guilty one?

Night, Night,Night,
Alchohol warms my throat.
Im a night owl,
stalking my next prey.
When I was the captured one;
My little mouse caressed my heart in a new fashion.
My lust was no longer instinct,
We danced like Chickadees in the sheets,
When I woke,
She was gone.

I walked in.
There was light.
I was fed penicillin.
I drank alchohol.
Carpe Diem.

21ST
I lost sight of it.
.. / .--. .-.. . -.. --. . / .- .-.. .-.. . --. .. .- -. -.-. . .-.-.-

I walked out.
The light was gone.

I cheated on you today,
with an old friend of mine,
I guess you could blame it on the alchohol,
or the fact that I was lacking the need of love,
physical touch,
you once filled in and out of me.
I enjoyed it you see,
it filled me with so much hate and jealousy,
that my own friend could please me,
in a way you never could do,
I hated you then,
at that moment when he kissed me,
our kiss reminded me of our first kiss,
the one at the rugby field,
you've probably forgotten that day,
but it really meant something to me,
it gave me hope that we would never end up like this,
you ignoring me,
refusing to look at me when we were in deep intimacy with each other,
love making,
so thats why I guess I cheated love,
my vindictive way of showing you,
that your not the only **** around,
nor the only man who longs to be with a woman like myself.

I find myself surrounded by it.
Why everyone is following such an aspect...
A generation full of briliance,
Yet it follows ignorance...
I am mesmerized by it..
How can a mind be destroyed by such a vice?
I used to think alchohol was an escap...
But i can comprehend now how vulnerable we are...
Questions with no answer..
Knowledge of nothing,
we cry for help
Yet we deny it...
We love ourselves enough to hate everyone...
A generation blessed with briliance
Yet cursed with ignorance.

I took a bath in alchohol, to clean the wounds no one could see, all the sins washed away.
I let my hair down, and took a walk in the wind bare.

I seem so stressed, Im always looking at the positives and the best
It keeps me engaged while life is putting me to the test
If you asked what matters they write it on a check
Or you feel it in the sweat when you've fallen into ***

If dying is what it seems, then why does it always appear within my dreams
Trying to understand what the devil may be in
It works all the same everything feels like sin
Henny and Gin, always on one's mind
The truth is out there but it's so ******* hard to find
The grind of life causes us to choose vice
Whether its alchohol, tobacco, or maybe it's rolling dice
Nice is what you want to be but that won't happen
As long as you succumb to the evils that surround men
When we find our vices we give up on life
The evils of Lucifer causing us strife

I'm too paranoid for *******,
not social enough for alchohol.

Speed's not for me,
you gotta give up your dreams.
And I look forward to sleep.

I disliked **** once they
made it legal.
I can't mess with the pills
unless they're the happy ones
and a girl is involved.

I thought about my first
love, my first addiction.
There's no way I can say
I'll never do ****** again.

I'm not too sure about much
but I can say this for sure.
"Maybe one day my dear
but I can't go back to you today".

I Love Rock n'Roll
But I'm to brilliant for your drugs,
Your alchohol
Your ***
All of which are so fleeting, leaving
with my soul, leaving only my conscious
To know I am no longer there

There's a thin line sometimes
Between love and hate
Between wanting to help
And losing hope and faith
As the alchohol makes him callous
Night after night takes him away
Jagged line across my heart
Of expectation and hurt
Is slow heartbreak
Wearing rose colored glasses
Seeing the line of the frame
As love cools but care remains
And it's harder to make love
Revive, knowing revival
Doesn't bring any change
It's a thin line I walk
Between fighting for it anymore
And walking away

Daddy please! Don’t do this!
Sir I’m begging you!
Help me! Somebody! Anybody!’

I heard. She heard. He heard. They heard. We heard. Who helped?



Five year old, hiding underneath the bed
Shivering, terrified, petrified
Alchohol bottles lying scattered, cigarette buds gazing up at her
Papa’s touch still imprinted in her quivering mind
She heard mama screaming, mama was leaving her home
A scream lodged in her throat, oh no papa was opening the door
He caught her pretty soon and his rough hands left a mark
In her body, in her voice, soul and heart.

That’s not true! He is a respectable man. He would never do that!



Ten year old, spending hours in the shower, reliving the same old tragedy, going mad,
Had a mother, has a father but yearns for a mom and dad
Threatened by her teacher, ‘I’ll fail you if you say’
‘Please sir, don’t do this’ she begged but he wouldn’t let go of his prey
Battered and bruised, now nowhere else to go
Just another child, had too little time to grow.

A teacher sleeping with his student? This girl is insane! Spewing lies like that!



Fifteen year old, a smile lost in the breeze, arms adorned with paintings
Cries echoing in the space so timeless, no one could see past the smile she was feigning
Strangers in darkness became her breathless nightmare
Her body was bare and her sanity broken beyond repair.

What a *****! Such a *****! What was she wearing?



Nineteen year old, far too gone, one step from the edge
A rope, a cloth, a bottle and a blade, yes she was well prepared
‘This world doesn’t deserve my love, my smile, my life
My mind is way too saturated with hate, so this is my final goodbye’

Teenagers nowadays! Always choosing the easy way out. It’s all her fault!