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Author: Danielle B.

See, these days I occupy my minutes

with, the uniquely rich cancer sticks,

to make THAT part of me die –

over and over like a blister in the sun.


You see, I am stuck


the lines that haunt me,

the way that anger and pride kindle the hurt

the ebb and flow of wasting time,

of rising anxiety – which is automatically lingering these days.

People once told me that, that, it’s good, “it’s good to be seen”.

Behind these walls — this is why I hate to cry –


because, I’ve been told to let go, to compromise.

I’ve learned how to calm the ego, down

to taste freedom, but ATTACK – the silence surrounds me.

I just might, push the breakdown

In terms, like lines, and boundaries –

How can I describe … the darkness, the isolation, and the self-loathing?

Like a breathless papercut,

Let me lick these wounds into ashes, but …

Wounds into conversations, and inflections –

Healing has this way where moving forwards becomes a place,

where dialogue shapeshifts into the kind of happiness that still chooses to wear a mask.

Hope moves like legs and fingers that try to find others like themselves …

Intertwining like subversion, like hollowed voices beckoning darkness.

And Time, it wraps around old thoughts slowly,

the way a cigarette burns down




The pain and trauma

from the past,

from today

from tomorrow —

like smoke signals, cylinders of stories

which construct, and influx, the way my mind clauses –

complicated little niches – :: INHALE ::

Deep, just so I can collapse these mother fucking lungs of feeling.

Because my mind is a crowded space

These questions, like fears, little disarmed monsters –

This is why I choose to light up these contexts, to keep old demons down

with sand and grit, smoke like a chain between the filter and me,




I make room for the healing. But, don’t worry about me.

This is why I choose

to let these cinders burn.

— Sometimes, I miss the girl who used to stand

in the dark corners

of bars

of alleys

who was waiting to die

every night.

Sometimes, I miss the

black and blues

the cuts and scars.

The storefronts

The light poles

The burning smell of rubber

and red and white and blue lights.

I can still feel the cold concrete

floor of Central Bookings beneath my fingertips.

She at least, knew herself.

I, still haven’t found

what I’m looking for.

Author: Danielle B. See, these days I occupy

Author: Kristen C.

When her father was drunk, he’d say ‘I used to have a brother, you know’,
He got faraway look in his eyes, a memory forming in the clouds,
His hands would open and close, tightening as his breath grew swallow,
Cruel thoughts manifesting at the bottom of his scotch,
But he’d smile again a minute later and the memory was gone,
Along with the uncle she wish she never knew she had.
When her mother was drunk, she would stumble and fall,
Tripping over more than her words, but,
Her smile was never as bright as when she was half way through the bottle of wine,
And her eyes held a shine that would never see the light of day,
But morning would always come, and with it the shameful dissonance.
Her mother always hides the bruises and broken glasses well.
She had never known the effects of the drink until later in her life,
For she had seen what could happen when a pain that deep ran in the family,
But she has come to understand the appeal of a drunken stupor,
Reality always made much more sense when her world was spinning.
When she drinks, she drinks to remember, to forget
It depends on the night in question,
Sometimes it’s to remember her mothers smile, or forget the haunted look in her eyes in the morning rays,
Or she drinks to forget the secrets she wished her father never spilled,
Drinks to forget the reality she helped create.
She knows the harmful effects of addiction to the bottle,
But she knows she cannot function without it; family traits and all,
Yet there is power every time she spills the bottle down the sink,
But she clings to the drops as though they hold a dying prayer,
She hates living on a silent scream, but she still she prays
Asking those above to save her from the same path as those before her.

Author: Kristen C. When her father was drunk,

To swallow
Without the hint of bitterness Relief
After all these winters
A tiny moon
A savior pinched between finger tips, Careful to drop it
Careful to lose it.
It rests on the tongue Dissolved
A hint of bitterness
Is the hero coming? Soon…
The train begins to slow
A cape handed on exit
The hero
He likes this version of himself. Is this real?
A pill this bitter
Easy to swallow
Noone likes this person Villain…
What is inside this silver treasure? Pop!
He likes this version
The train is broken
The tunnel imploded
Nobody liked this journey anyway Black…
Blue moon
An answer beacons. Another
The hero is stranded Villain…
The sun has risen
A hero and a villain Departed.
A version everybody likes How he will be missed. Peace.
It is over.
And Blue…

To swallow Without the hint of bitterness Relief After

– [ ] He stumbles about as if he’s lost in the dark set out in search for an ointment to heal his broken and beaten heart. Pill by pill hit by hit just more more drink until he’s lit. Slowly dies the man he was. The man she knew the man she loved. Nothing of him she remembers to be the same. Only this man carries his name. His body brittle fragile weak. His eyes empty hollow blank. The smile he used to wear turned to an evil smirk, under the pain continues to lurk. Only if he could set his past free, a beautiful life awaits him she prayed for him to see. Instead she sits waiting for him to come home. Knowing that day will never come. She thought for sure she could save him with the love that filled her heart, but now she is left torn apart…

- [ ] He stumbles about as

The Spirit

Author: Adrian P.

He is

With me
In my place of

He is
With me
Through the most

He is here
In comfort
With me
In addiction.


He is here with
My family
And one lover
My ‘real’

Person is

The Spirit Author: Adrian P. He is Here. With me In my

Author: Sam M.

We meet again my vicious friends…
It’s been a while thought I was changing my style
Still I needed you that is no denial
Life constantly flows like the Nile
Everyone knows if I’m ill it’s you who I dial
Can never be true as I bundle my shit up in a pile
Out the door I try to go
You’re pissed I’m face down on the floor I know
I laugh then crack a joke
Pick myself up see change fuck I’m broke
I don’t fit in I hang with different folk
Hitting rails I pluck my guitar with a deadly stroke On edge so I shoot before I smoke
With death I’m flirting puking between burping Head in the toilet I’m hurting
Craving a buzz so I’m slurring
Later driving to cop lost in thought severely swerving
If I’m being honest the chaos looked good in the pot I’m stirring
My mistake I don’t abide I try an hide it with a tarp Is this real or fake on either side when failure cuts it’s sharp
If offered I take
Inhale the life in my heart that’s beginning to break Quickly kicking in “numbing” the pain as I shake
The come down vibe is gasping treading water in a bottomless lake
Puzzled thoughts as I keep up the doggy paddle for my daughters sake
I’ve no preserver I see a demon I yell “No I will not dessert her”
Proceed to decline last year was a blur
Fuck this chaos I ain’t having her lick the spoon right after I stir
I snap back…
I realize I’m losing to this demon
Farther I fall soon to be sleeping
After I’ll interact with objects to show y’all I’m speaking
Pitch black I fall deeper and deeper
Feels like I’m on a track blowing the lead to a sleeper or second half Atlanta losing big with no fans on a singular bleacher…I black out…
Hypothetically speaking to my Mother screaming are you proud of your oldest
“Son you have a warm heart but strut around the coldest five foot ten but forever pulling sticks that keep you the shortest”
Mom’s a heavily educated nurse see at the time medically she fought and prayed the younger me received help to a certain degree…
I can see the light
Been doing wrong so long this feels right
Then my eyes dart open…
I picture staring at my soul
The body’s way of trickery when there’s a taste of charcoal
Ranting and raving “I’m no longer a healthy host” Visions run wild of me taking the form of a ghost
I feel my heart barely skipping
The devil gained a resident I hear snickering
The demon says “sit down and reflect on the precious time you’ll be missing”
His evil face inching closer I’m scared shitless
Then out from the abyss with an angel as my witness I engaged fight or flight in an instant
A stern voice is now speaking “Your last chance too much time you’ve been stealing constant agony the opposite of relieving Sam hurt is necessary when you’re healing”
My head shoots through that blue ceiling
Chest filling with air it’s so appealing
Now whispers of an early death refrain from speaking
I reach land glance back at the deadly pair fading Courageously I 180 a pencil to practice erasing…Life is a rough draft continuously proofread floating on a poorly designed raft…
For me that’s heard at a different volume..
I keep myself on the forefront
When I unwelcome the generous offer of a shortcut
Irrelevant when I hear them judge
Carnage behind me it’s okay to hold that grudge
Numb to insults I will never budge
Knowing what spews out they mouth leaves a trail of sludge…
This is forever everyday I’m getting better I step outside regardless of terrible weather look up and thank God that we doing this together

When life gives you lemons make orange juice and leave them wondering…lastly I ask…a moment of silence for the still sick and suffering

Author: Sam M. We meet again my vicious

Author: Jessica S.

Dear addiction,
There is something about our veins that has attracted your attention.
Our names are on your lips again
As if we are something worth your mention.
You knew that we had left you,
You were never our missing jewel.
Still here you came uninvited again,
Back into our lives you fool.
I don’t blame you for your desperation to share life behind our wrists,
Because we are vessels of beauty
And you are just sweaty fists.
It’s true, you knew.
Children of God you were loitering through.
We will admit we unlocked our jewelry box for you, but, this is the day
The lord has illustrated.
And these are his children you have robbed and degraded.
We are blessed to have met you,
Though you will regret we had to meet.
You will be dealing with our father now,
And you can find us at his feet.

Author: Jessica S. Dear addiction, There is something about

Author: Alicia R.

I let out a sigh but not one meant for frustration,
More like the one when your landing home from vacation.
Looking back two years prior
When my only concern was to get higher.

That darkness creeps over me like fallen smoke,
Stealing my breath and I choke.
From memory of the sickness that once consumed me
Maintaining how grateful and fortunate that I am now free.

With demons gone, those that I abhor
Pure bliss, laughter and love radiates through my core
I can give my children the life they deserve
These new memories I can now preserve.
If and when those temptations arise
Fleetingly come and go but will not be my demise!

Let my strength and faith shine hope for others still in a dark abyss
There is a way out and you can overcome this!
With enthusiasm to live and a hand reaching out
There is no blackness that you can not surmount!

Author: Alicia R. I let out a sigh

Author: Torious W.

Aspirations of a better life, one without drugs and alcohol, one without strife. Spirits high, heart in the right place, mind grounded in a good head space. Emotions in check unlike before, if it continues to be this way don’t know what’s in store. I know I have a bright future ahead, if I hadn’t changed some things in my life, I could have been dead. Positive energy flowing through my veins, reading my writings I can see that I’ve changed. More work to do I’m only beginning, woke up this morning sober, so I’m already winning. It feels good now to have a sense of direction, I have a program to work and GOD for protection. Aspirations are good, but faith without works is dead, I can face the rest of life now it’s full speed ahead!!

Author: Torious W. Aspirations of a better life,

Author: Chris J.

Us drunks and addicts-can at times be naive-this disease of addiction-lets us look but not see-the reality we live in-each and everyday-this disease loves fantasy-and it likes to play-with our minds and emotions-our hearts and our souls-it just patiently waits-it has no other goals-but to breed chaos in our lives-every chance that it gets-to fill us with more pain-heartaches and regrets-and just when you think-that you got this thing beat-it throws you a curve ball-and sweeps you right off your feet-and starts your mind to racing-and your emotions to churn-your heart to breaking and your soul to burn-then you think of that drug-or maybe that drink-if I only have one-I won’t have to think-about anything or anyone-today or tomorrow-I can just sit and wallow-in self–pity and sorrow-why doesn’t anyone understand-I’m perfect can’t they see-everything would be alright-If everyone was more like me-there isn’t a thing-that I can’t do-I’m perfect in everything-bummer to be you-and the longer I stay-in this unhealthy state-I get further and further-away from my fate-of getting closer to my God-as I possibly can-and start reaching out-to my fellow man-and get out of me-and my sick mind-so serenity and peace-I might find!

Author: Chris J. Us drunks and addicts-can at