"wodka" poems
You're like wodka
to me, I'm addicted
I need you more
each and every day
to keep my heart
from ever feeling
hopeless or
unwanted.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 7:53 PM UTC
**** it,
imma go to the store
and get a few more
beers and some marlboros
im stumbling
all over the place
making circles in the hardwood
with my feet
and swing doors in the air closed
with spaghetti in my veins,
but imma make it,
imma shut that *******
dog up
too,
keeps barking,
shut the **** UP.
"That's Rob's dog,"
Elcie says,
spit ripples at the corners
of her mouth,
and some baked ziti
is rumored to be
in the toilet.
That ******* thing
is getting six 60 milogram
perky sets in his morning kibble,
right after I puke
some more baked ziti
and wodka.
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 12:49 PM UTC
I was never good at writing love poems untill I met you
we all have this one person you would do anything for, like anything
you could die for that other human without hesitation, without doubt
they know each other for almost a year now and a lot had changed
she fell in love with her that year and it killed you inside, everything
she wanted to give up on her so many times, it was so so hopless
and I knew, I knew you loved me, I knew you were in love with me
maybe she was just afraid to let someone in, to let someone love her
it was the darkness that was always haunting her, the demons inside
I remember the first time the razors kissed my veins, it was a thursday
I remember the blood and the crying, the shame and the crying, crying
it were the wodka and punk rock music the piercings and tattoos
the time of high wasted jeans and timberlands, red lipstick and eyeliner
the stories the kids told on the street were probably made up, fake
even the broken childeren needed a laugh once in a while, fake
nobody thought that we also deserved to be happy, just for once..
we could blame it on the internet or television, the time we live in
blame our parents for not loving us the way they should love us
the pills we ate every night just to find a way to escape this **** hole
this girl always made feel a little bit more alive but now she's gone
she's gone and I know she is coming back soon but she feels gone
like that part of me that was made for her is gone, I feel alone again
music is filling the hole what is left crying in my heart, my soul
and if I begged you would you stop this, the feeling of loneliness
can you stop me from hurting myself, stop me from being worthless
happy endings are made for happy people, I am not getting one, ever
I always was a sucker for attention and cheap love, dont blame me
love poems aren't a thing for me.
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 7:07 PM UTC
They tell you not to smoke cigarettes,
you are too young anyway.
Where there is a will, there is a way
They won't let you smoke a hookah,
it's even worse!
Where there is a will, there is a way
They forbid drinking at your age,
they call it underage drinking.
Where there is a will, there is a way
They tell you **** is dangerous,
if they found out, you're ******
Where there is a will, there is a way
They tell you not to combine alcohol and ****
even less when it's wodka and out of a ****
Where there is a will, there is a way
They fence in the roof of the highest tower,
the teacher says there's been too many jumpers.
Where there is a will, there is a way
They can't understand you,
they won't let you escape.
Where there is a will, there is a way
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 2:25 PM UTC