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They found her diaryin the estate saleIt was a gold minethey never knew...
You’ve sat down, and you watch me fumble with the guitar. My thoughts wander. I’m drunk.
I sit, watching him drink even though he’s wasted. Blotchy skin, red and damp, and the slick guitar strummed under slurring words.
That pain that I felt in my chest yesterday is in my gut today And I don't know if it's the heartbreak moving through my veins into other parts of me or if it happens to be the alcohol
The fact is that you did not raise me You neglected me You betrayed me You left me there to figure it all out on my own
Nephthys only ever wants to see the night. The dark, soothing blanket that reminds her of when her mother used to dance in the halls of their home, all rich ebony skin and pearly white teeth and bright eyes. Before she left.
a shed full of bottles, some empty, some sparing but a drop of umber syrup for a thirsty traveler. pots and pans had long stacked up
Ten years old, Wearing a medical mask In ICU. Seeing your Father, Your best friend, Slipping away. He suffers from His liver corroding From trying to combat The alcohol he drinks.
vodka bottles, secrets, and pain. these are the memories that haunt my brain. total disfunction, chaos, and abandonment. this is when i learned i was in the midst of adolescence.
“I love you more than anything,” you once whispered in my ear, while you read aloud Goodnight, Moon in my pillow forts, and hummed quiet lullabies so I could rest. “I love you too.”
Late at night, the broken spirits sit on barstools, hunched over the counter like question marks They ponder their place in this world They drown their sorrows in bourbon to escape the outer flood attempting to engulf them
Heart teeming with love, liver soaking in booze; rough around the edges, tender to the core: the dichotomy of you.
What did I say? did I mean it that way? I'm forgetting something tell me please before I start remembering The pain to me is numbing and I didn't mind forgetting but the memories are bringing back the reasons for forgetting even though I sa
Pause in the mirror Stare into the heart attack waiting to happen Smack flab lost in the caramel center Drunken slurs slosh and slip from innards thrown outwards
somewhere i can hear her singing still.‘new york i love you but you’re bringing me down’new york is always bringing someone down.someone taking the train to the end of the line
Constance—You don’t contradict your name.You are constant in your wavering waysYou wave like reeds in the dry summer air—If the winds reeked of tobacco, and the reeds werewithered and frail
Lots of people knew the beautiful family- The Mours, that is. But they don't know what happens when the teenage boy's stepfather gets a little too drunk. Big D will be fifteen beers into a bender
Vodka goes down in an attempt to drown all the things I don't want to think about. A rough upbringing, and some things I'd seen, confuse me like a film of the color green- I think I just need to be redeemed.
I continue to puke up vodka and hear my father's voice in my head: "Never drink milk after shots."
She's in love with an alcoholic, I find it a little scary, that people can go and gossip, not knowing what she is feeling. Abuse that she has to face, his anger she have to taste. Her life is a metaphor,
whether it be the weather , or too much alcohol somewhere inside the stone monument , erosion clapped its hands and its job was completeweathering down a great stone monument from the inside out when they told me stories of great monoliths and str
Could tea be my new alcohol? I would let it fool me that I am warm I would drink it as it burned down my throat I would let it take control Because for awhile, a very short while
Sitting here daydreamingAll the time my brain is…Scheming, scheming, scheming. Even given all I knowMy brain just wantsAnother go, another go Consequences do not deter me now It won't hurt, here's how Nothing can stop this trainMy addled alcoholic
Have you seen the red house on Castle Street? The family in the red house is the first one you’ll meet. There’s a friendly mother and stern father,
The bottle sits on the kitchen table Glinting in the sun She grabs it, begging for comfort Now that the day is done
Define alcoholism: habitual intoxication. Define habitual: commonly used or practiced. Define Writing: the act of creating written works.
A is for air force. It’s Captain Briggs in the jet. The toughest and proudest man that you’ve ever met. B is for ball, “why can’t you catch?” Dad grumbled as I shaped my small hands for the next.
the raindrop that splatters on the kitchen counter means there is a leak in the roof again my mother takes an extra shift at night my father
Everyone says its not my faultBecause there’s nothing I could do And yet of course, just by default I blame myself and not you You’re like a bird with a broken wing You’re so fragile and misguided You would always turn to me in spring But now l
Dead, dead, is she ahead? Did she quit while she was ahead?
It swims within variety, As if it were an ocean, From sorrow to prosperity, The image and emotion, When the words make me cry,
You open your eyes around noon The thinnest ray of sunlight peeks into your room You feel like your head is on upside down You’re walking on the ceiling
And she used to be the sweetest girl …Ambrolletta !! Is what I called her The lightest feather no man could ever catch her Made you torture when she left And if she stayed it'd be like death
She traded scars for callouses,and silver stained fingertips,rubber shaving bits sticking to her shirt,she drew and wrote the pain away,for all that it was worth,
you say those words to me that cut through my heart like a knife. It's not just once, hundreds of times you plunge the knife into my already lacerated heart. Tears stream down my face I'm screaming "MOTHER, I LOVE YOU."
Nails peel cracking, uneven- some long, some short
I never asked you for the world. Didn't need you to give me anything but your love... But apparently, I was asking for too much.
"Imprisonment, detained, day by day. Take away these chains for my child's sake."
Writing a poem about how everything is awesome but my possum it ain't the truth. Sometimes I think I should get my dreams and tossum
SHADES OF RAIN “He loves you,” my mother tells me He’s yelling again He’s drunk again No, drunk still “He loves you,” the teachers tell me
Your hands are raised. They're raised in praise. To Jesus Christ. He took your vice. He paid the price. You rolled the dice. He gave his blood. You crashed in mud. His arms extended. Mistakes amended.
“From dust you came and to dust you now return.” A mound of earth sifts through the preacher’s hand Small rocks break free, hitting the coffin’s lid With pops like tiny bullets
BoozerUserLoserRed puffy eyes pleading with youAbuserYou are the one I am forced to loveBlamingShamingDrainingSlurring words from drunkin lipsClaiming
How many shots will it take to feel comfort?
Broken home, a broken promise, broken bottle of green tinted glassStayed up late to watch over you, now I’m dozing off in class
Let's take a trip, no a dip into the past where the sun showed, where the dew on the leaves of the grape vines glowed. Before echoes of the railroad pinged and clanged,
It's two a.m. And basically I'm longing to dream again I'll have my lusts when I awake But when I close my eyes, I have nightmares that I can Not shake And I remember running
Empty Bottles Written by: Tara Renee Sack Once upon a time you had a life Made a family, had some kids With your beautiful wife
pour up (d
You think you’ve moved onLike a bird taken flightBut I think of you moreLike a piece of debrisBroken and floating further and further awaySoon I won’t even be able to pull you back
Child of poverty Child of immigrants Doesn't know any other world until it's time to go to school In Boyle Heights, you're just like everybody else except maybe not as brown
Happiness Anger Love Hate Presence Absence Prompt Late Pride Embarrassment Confidence Worry Ignore Obsess Delay
Oh what would I possibly do and who on earth would I be, if for just one tiny moment
You torture us
Two sisters young climb up a tree In the snow of Christmas day They peek over the fence to watch, to see How the neighbor children play. They climb back down, they go inside
It's not just one time. I know because you've said that before "It's just one drink." "It's just one hit." "I promise, I could quit." It's not fine! So wake up!
He crushed the butt of his cigarette into the rusted tray, A valley of forgotten grey. After flexing his filthy fingers, his gaze sharply drove into me. I lost my breath.
I watched them gulp the whole bottle down I know where one get its, but for the other I have no clue how They were the same, stubborn and loud One I could've stopped, the other I couldn't control
*written in 8th grade "Daddy's home!", Mom yells to her son from the front door A few hours later, it's happy no more Daddy drinks a beer and goes about What always makes the boy scream and shout
Money Owns Me
Lips to the bottle The liquid burns down your throat Burns a hole in your stomach The little girl accidently startles you She didn’t mean to, she really didn’t, As a bottle shatters against the wall
the flourescent lightson her iridescent skinreveal the railroad tracksof her train with no brakes"all aboard," the ageless conductor criesshe climbs in.
I'm tired of all the bickering, mommy and daddy always fight. My mom working hard in the kitchen, my dad always drinking bud light. There's always some kind of conflict between them,
Back when I was 16, I sw thrown whisky bottles put scars on my mother's face. She pranced around the rim of the bottle with unspoken dreams. I didn't want her to be lonely, So we pranced together.
Hello it was nice to meet you,I known you all my life,We grew up together,You was like the brother i never had,Every weekend and every summer i spend all my days with you,Riding bikes, going swimming, playing video games is what we did,But i never
My father was an alcoholic. Maybe it's true that he still is. Although he battles everyday, His wounds are labeled 'anonymous'. Anonymous is the word to describe many things.
She stares at the bottle
Repeating lies to regain stress but your constant reassurance inables you to confess Don't love the way you hold your drink just adore how every night you're not required to think
Sip by sip, I forget the words Said by who I love and don’t It doesn’t matter I don’t have to care. Bottle by bottle, I drown away The harsh looks I get
We take baby steps forward Then back we’ll fall But our steps are in synch We’re giving our all Best friends and sisters We float hand in hand Down the river of life Away from dry land
I have a bad habit of developingbad habits.
Shoulders prickling with Excitement A bubble in my chest Focus naught on any else My thirst is unrelenting And then I take a shot Coursing through my veins Like a soothing elixir
Lost in a fit of insane incest, you woke me from my slumber, forcing my face to the pillows, hushing my tears with your murmurs, your eyes stood out vivid, yellow, with veins of deep red, your sweat matted my hair, & mixed with stale tears on
For the mother who never sees her daughter for who she is, Blinded by a chemical not worth what she’s already lost. To the sister who comes home mid-morning,
She could feel the frozen slaps of the raging wind wiffing through her hair, Driving 90 on the interstate not going anywhere, she won't be late, despite her fate.
Crack! Pop! Fizz! Yet another beer down. The anger boils up, While the true you is left to drown. The spiral continues, you’ve lost all control. Just one more cup,
How can i trust you after what you did? you were the light in a place with darkness you stole the innocence of a little kid. how could evil hide in the face of kindness? i believed you would protect me from evil,
I remember the night, when we had no place to go. Being woken up by my weeping mother and you, my little brother-not so little now. There had been nights like this for years,
the bottle sipped from your lipsintoxicating virtueleaving me to emergeas the art of an alcoholic. (breathe sigh) girls soaked in ginurged me to use my inside voice.
my ears muster only the skeleton of your voice, a hollow memory traipsing its legs over a joyful moment, its recalcitrant grasp shackling me in high tides of self-loathing & worthlessness.
I am still reminded of him by beggars stalking the intersections downtown. I have known my real father to be homeless. Braked at the mouth of my neighborhood’s beltway exit ramp, I hold my breath.
Stress Stress A manifestation of the unnerving Stress The tickle at your side that you wish didn’t hurt
It’s been a while since I saw you last I don’t know what you’d say To me. I hope you’d be proud Of me – But there’s no way to know. Five years since I saw you last
*for my mother* Yellow light casts its glow across the halls, ghoulish, Empty except for the sounds of whirring machines and soft feet. The halls open into a room where skeletons reside,
When we got the call that he ended it all My heavy tears flowed down my cheeks. My pen and paper took the pain as my hands shook.
Answers aren't at the bottom of a whiskey bottle, But misery is. You're just a child whose been hurt, And the world has hardened your heart.
Just one more drink you told me Just one more pill you said I wake up every morning And expect to find you dead The drug is your master that won't set you free You choose it over life You choose it over me
My stomach clenches as I hear your fist warp the banister, sweaty fingers slide from the flaking painted-over rust, feet thudding like mismatched first steps, redundantly walking up
60-day chips from something united anonymous Anxiety Blame others, but your decisions are autonomous Variety Smirnoff, Burnett’s, Skyy, UV Society Idolizes and publicizes it, but what they don’t perceive
Beer bottles flood the floor Bricks bruise my sunk-in face Fake smiles hide the pain Hammer flying towards her face Murderous screams attack the air Agony, shaking, hunger pains
(poems go here) This probably stems from my not-so-likely childhood of alcohol-stained arguments and an echoing sentiment of loneliness temporarily cured by few fellow eleven-year-olds with parents that worked late and bike rides in the safety of
You said you’d let me be anything I wanted to be… But I never could believe you When you couldn’t let me be me. “Don’t let them play soccer or football until they’re in college!”
The last time I saw you without the jaws of I.V.s clamped onto your arms, and without the yellow tinge to your skin, and without you fading away from me... The last time I saw you was two months ago,