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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: Sydney L.

Men would envy, women crave him.
He might be president.
He pictured himself in a black limousine.
He’d be given whatever he might want.

He wanted wine, as a matter of fact,
Or something with alcohol.
And so, for all his aspirations,
He really didn’t do much at all.

Or in the life of his mind he’d become
a champion wrestler. His sweat
would lend a sheen to his rippled triceps.
But he liked beer. He liked it a lot.

And further, no one huffed with awe
As he played the guitar, though he’d planned
To dash into nationwide fame overnight,
Fronting a world-famous band.

It took years to see what he was: a lush.
It gnawed at him like a rat,
How much he needed the goddamned booze.
He thinks, it was three generations back

That he started drinking if he factors in
Milk from his grandmother’s famous
Breasts, then his mother’s. Then vanilla extract,
Everclear, Listerine mouthwash– you name it:

Whatever went down would do. He looked down
From what he believed was a tower
On everything, on every being.
But in fact he kept getting lower, lower

Than Miracle

Men would envy, women crave him.
He might be president.
He pictured himself in a black limousine.
He’d be given whatever he might want.

He wanted wine, as a matter of fact,
Or something with alcohol.
And so, for all his aspirations,
He really didn’t do much at all.

Or in the life of his mind he’d become
a champion wrestler. His sweat
would lend a sheen to his rippled triceps.
But he liked beer. He liked it a lot.

And further, no one huffed with awe
As he played the guitar, though he’d planned
To dash into nationwide fame overnight,
Fronting a world-famous band.

It took years to see what he was: a lush.
It gnawed at him like a rat,
How much he needed the goddamned booze.
He thinks, it was three generations back

That he started drinking if he factors in
Milk from his grandmother’s famous
Breasts, then his mother’s. Then vanilla extract,
Everclear, Listerine mouthwash– you name it:

Whatever went down would do. He looked down
From what he believed was a tower
On everything, on every being.
But in fact he kept getting lower, lower

Than almost anyone he knew.
He dwelt in a strange cold fire.
No flowers for him to smell, no skin
He could gently touch, no music to hear.

But listen. He didn’t die. He likes
Where he is just now, and how,
Watching through his kitchen window
A white winter hare in new-fallen snow.
almost anyone he knew.
He dwelt in a strange cold fire.
No flowers for him to smell, no skin
He could gently touch, no music to hear.

But listen. He didn’t die. He likes
Where he is just now, and how,
Watching through his kitchen window
A white winter hare in new-fallen snow.

Author: Sydney L. Men would envy, women crave

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: Tricia L.

There is an
ACHE
a heavy-hearted feeling, I cannot equate anything to…

A shadow of sadness behind my smile as I mention your name
because of what
LIES
beneath….

I try each second to engulf you with all the layers of
LOVE
my body can give to make this pain disappear from your being…

I try to remain in SILENCE,

convince myself it is not there….
I try to welcome their presence… but they insist on remaining
HIDDEN

Small GEESE colored GREY trailing one another,
The BIG and small BLUE SKYY, seen below
Ostentatiously organic, RAIN drops in volume
A Representative special of its kind, with refined ingredients from The Capital City of Russia, stoic STOLI.
The FOREIGN UNCLE… PAVING THE WAY AND WAS THE ONE & ONLY… TIL THE OTHERS BECKONED TO BE PART OF THE SECRET

I try to
BLINK
them away, a figment of my imagination
They continue to
REAPPEAR
surprise, and catch me off guard

I try not to succumb into
TEARS,
to crumble in my vulnerability
To remain
STRONG, COURAGEOUS
I try not to buckle, I fell in heaps of sobs
I try not to continue in the evening

Author: Tricia L. There is an ACHE a heavy-hearted feeling,

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: Haylee T.

Hey there, you remember me I’m lil ole crystal. Chrystal meth yep that’s me . You were told about me why didn’t you just stay the hell away. You chose to test me like a fool and now can’t get away. All that shit the last author told you was for real not some story made up but facts were they were real. Yeah It’s true I do destroy family’s that’s just the start I turn you away from everyone that loves you I make you hate them for nothing other than being worried and concerned about the demon you have became. I take the children I sure do in more than one way I let the state have them or I drive mothers away or worse i drive them to slay the young I’m Chrystal meth no remorse because they were just in my damn way. I slowly take every bit of human away right down to the soul don’t try to fight it’s useless I now hold you hostage in my grips you will stay for all eternity I make your mind a fearful dark place I have it always running in place. I’m taking everything from you one by one even two by two even right down to your youth and health your face all sunken in look like a bare skull and aging skin so fast your teeth are no more soon you will be nothing more than a skeleton with skin And in the worst of times I got you thinking of making it an end suicide is always on your mind a hand full of pills or a rope in a tree but I’ll instead keep you wishing your life was over. But I’m not threw with you yet bitch buckle up it gets worse from here. You stupid bitch you chose to do me over and over more here and there no longer can do a little shit You have to do a whole g blast it brings you to your knees and you can just manage to be okay with being here trac marks all over your body when you look in the mirror what do you see A meth monster or can you see an image deep down within yourself a glimpse if you will of who you was just a short 2 years ago from here and now. If you could have seen what nasty and miserable empty person or shell you are sitting here you’ve become so addicted lifeless and All because you didn’t hear the fucking warns of the satanic and controlling narcotic charms you stupid bitch now you fucked up You played with fire now your gonna burn lay back in your fucking grave it’s now your turn to be dragged to hell. I own your soul!! So don’t forget about me and what I cost because I cost more to. You than anything that can be bought your life revolves around putting me in your fucking arm.

By: Haylee Jo Taylor

Author: Haylee T. Hey there, you remember me

Author: Meredith C.

There are no good words to explain, no shovel precise enough
to dig that deep around the arteries and veins
to that fiery heart at 120 beats
pounding beneath the wooden lid of this disease.

but let me try, as I sit on the broken planks
I clawed my own way through
fingernails still full of dirt and splintered pine
all these years later.

I leave them that way to remember
how from that wrecked last day on my knees
I waved the bloody white flag of no more
not knowing for sure what that would mean.

Which is how I found you, all fury and flash
running so fast between each Marlboro red
dancing demon on the bottle of your favorite nip
not even close to done, your will as tough as old leather.

That day at the hospital, possessed
you tore the tubes from your skin
and snaked past the nurses and out the door
to the hot summer heat of your cinnamon whiskey.

So many days lost and so were you
out there somewhere and making sure
that if you were alive to tell it,
you would have quite the story one day.

Adding to that tale, 66 proof of promises and lies
until from someone else’s shaking hands
you felt the rough jab of the needle
so deep in your young vein for the very first time.

Then coming to in a dirty unlit hallway
no one is too good for anything out there
not even you, crawling to a stop
a new depth dug at your last call.

From the constant scratches underneath the lid
from your brown eyes wild, I could see
miles across the char and flame
this one here, she is just like me.

And once all the fight and flight bled out
nothing left but the ragged sleep of a haunted heart
with just enough fear left to flee
and enough to know there is nowhere else to go.

And now with heart calm and eyes clear
the demon long exorcised from your blood
you are the fireball, a red hot ball of fire that will streak across the dark day
you once slid beneath, dreaming of the end.

No longer pulling up the warm blanket of dirt that thudded down
and scattered across the lid, you let me sit with you
on your broken planks, your fingernails still full of dirt and pine
and your will as tough as new leather.

Author: Meredith C. There are no good words

Author: Meredith C.

When something’s dead, they tell me
it rests.
I don’t see that—I see mistaken black toes with tags
worming up from kicked over dirt
when it rains.

It comes back when you bury it alive,
they say, shaking a finger.
I believe you, I lie.

My own head
this little thing–
I popped off and dropped into a bottle
twisted the cap tightly around its neck
and hurled into the current.

It drifted to places I don’t remember
it drifted to places I’d long since left
it bobbed and floated on
from trembling hands at dusk
to sweat-drenched dreams at dawn.

I tried to hold the head under, I even untwisted the cap
and waited for the bubbles to emerge
for the mouth to fill and flow over, churning the body upside down—
the last of that little girl, until it sank
to settle motionless on the bottom.

I am a conundrum, a bloated baby with searching eyes
staring pickled from round walls in a sealed jar.
I am the same thing I gazed at, mouth hanging
till my mother dragged me away by the hand.
I am, I am, still choking on the water in the womb I swam away from.

And then all those years later, all eyes on me
to which I said, fuck you
and ran away with the first love I ever knew.

My cup ran over and I awoke a day later,
surfacing in a crowd of featureless faces and are you okay?
there’s too much blood in my alcohol system
they diagnose and prescribe while I fold them all into a tight square
and leave it in the bottom of my coffee cup.

Rest in peace, Doc, and then I am swimming
and when I get tired I float on my back
till my head hits the solid shore, and I sleep.

It comes back, they say
when you bury it alive.
I believe you now, I reply.

The dirt frozen hard, the water frozen still
the womb a broken bottle.
And the mind, that little thing, it’s something anyway–
because sometimes, when everything’s quiet
I can almost hear it kick.

Author: Meredith C. When something’s dead, they tell

Author: Gina M.

I Don’t Miss the Birds
I’m so sober,
I miss talking to the 4 a.m. moon.
The way she’d respond in phases.
The way she rose no matter the places I gravitated.
I’m so sober.
I used to be awake for days and now I’m asleep before eight.
I’m so sober.
When I see cirrus clouds in the sky, my thoughts don’t go straight to lines of cocaine.
I’m so sober.
I used to maintain my high,
Now I maintain life.
Now I don’t look down on myself.
I don’t look down into mirrors.
I keep my head held high.
I’m not high.
I meet my reflection straight on.
I’m so sober.
I don’t roll bills into straws; my money would unravel like lockets of curls.
I don’t stumble from stalls with powder in balls in my pockets.
I’m so sober my bills stay straight in my wallet.
I’m so sober.
My phone barely rings.
It used to sing with the needs of all the people wanting all the shit that I used to have.
I’m so sober I snapchat my actual cat.
I’m so sober.
I preach meditation. I preach self-care. I preach coincidence.
Now my phone never dings because people don’t care what I have now that I’m sober.
I’m sober.
I’m so sober.
Since I’m sober, I don’t deal.
I’m too real for some people.
Since I’m sober, I don’t miss most people.
I kiss less people.
I miss the moon, but I don’t miss the feeling when the sun takes over and I still haven’t slept.
I don’t miss the way my heart used to pound in my chest.
I don’t miss the birds chirping the melody of my utter lack of self-respect.
I’m so sober I don’t miss.
I don’t miss birthdays. Or alarms.
I don’t miss milestones. Or opportunities.
Now that I’m sober, I don’t miss my family.
Now that I’m sober, we talk all the time.
I’m so sober I don’t miss the sun in the sky.
I’m so sober,
I don’t miss the birds.

Author: Gina M. I Don’t Miss the Birds I’m