#poem about drugs

[vanx-97]

Too broke, beer bottle ashtrays

Lose control, Xanax every Saturday

new dope to deal with past mistakes

I'm tryna stay high until I pass away

300 a week just to get lit

Walk the streets, got a car that needs fixed

Nothing to eat, glad I don't have kids

Be a broken family if I ever did

Roaches in the microwave, bugs in the bed

Nose is a passage way for drugs to my head

Coexist with massive pain, I'm such a mess

Hopeless and mad ashamed, puff a cigarette

How are they so happy? Why not I?

Am I really worth it? Should I even try?

I think the universe wants me to die

Maybe it can all change if I stop getting high

(For the record, I am not about this life anymore. I have been clean from hard drugs for 4 years now. This is based on my past experiences and if you are in this place, please get help, love to everyone, thank you)

[poems-of-the-anentomologist]

Can’t You See My (heart)Strings?

I’m a marionette

Can’t you see my strings?

They are made

Of my own two hands

I used to have another set of strings

They were means for someone else, not me

So I cut them off and put them in a bow in the attic

And then I fell limp to the ground

And I had to pull myself off

Agonizingly, slowly, but surely,

I stood on my own volition

But my hands were still limp

And I needed new strings

These were pink yarn,

Cheap. Simple. Yet so so pretty

I tied them to my hands

And I wove my own wings

And I flew

[someone-will-remember-us-i-say]

nobody look at me

[trickstersaint]

the lord shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul. // april 10 2023

[scottishstoner]

White powder up my nose once again, I feel it flowing through my veins, making me feel alive when I’m dead inside. It’s just a distraction, it doesn’t last, I’ll never get over some of the past. I snort it up anyway and pretend I’m fine, play my music and take another line.

- my fine line(s) by j.a (me @scottishstoner )

[associatedwithpumpkin]

Me An Intellectual Artist Living Mentally ill & The Guy Livin The Fast Life Who Loves Me

Against All Odds: A Love Story Unfolds…

In the heart of our city, where dreams intertwine,

We walk through the shadows, your hand in mine.

Like Jessie and Jane, we’ve built our own space,

In a world full of chaos, it’s your smile I embrace.

With laughter and whispers, we find our way,

In the depths of the night and the warmth of the day.

We share our secrets, our fears laid bare,

A bond so unbreakable, nothing can compare.

Through struggles and triumphs, we rise and we fall,

In the face of the storm, we stand strong through it all.

Your spirit ignites me, like fire and light,

Together we conquer, our hearts take flight.

Each moment we treasure, every glance, every touch,

In a world of uncertainty, I love you so much.

We dance through the darkness, our rhythm in sync,

Two souls intertwined, more than what they think.

And even when chaos tries to pull us apart,

We’re anchored together, heart to heart.

For love like ours, it’s steadfast and true,

In this wild, beautiful journey, I’m lost in you.

So here’s to the laughter, the tears that we’ve shed,

To a life that we’re building, where love’s gently fed.

In the chaos we navigate, together we thrive,

Just like Jessie and Jane, we’re truly alive.

[jessicas-mental-space]

My drugs numb me.

I can't even cry.

They shut my brain off

Spacey and gone

Hard to breath

Numb to the core

Release me

Make me free

-JessicaAllison

[1327-1]

COWBOY TECTONIC

smooth gunslinger an appetite of a valley the magic act is disappearing into the dust thinking about god, the way he tugs and carves into the throat convinced the hollow is for him to fill. i’m a constant swallower, a prison on paper. the traversing void operator melancholic come approach spring asks me for a name. you’d have to put a lure in the river, and die with your knees by the bank tucked into tadpole lining and born again in the face of a bondaged man. from circlets and bangles, sharktooth’d and halo’d draws the sap of village prayer and kiss tonight, straight around the eyes floods the bellows of guttings soothsatyr and shotgun bedsayers who have not much but to stay and watch a tawny head eye the sunken valley

quiaoit,

[gripes-withthesun]

"I begin with a story of a miniscule failure..."

and I hope you will stick around

<click for better quality. ID in alt>

When you're younger and grow up not understanding why you feel ostracized, and what you could possibly do to make it stop and find your place - that grief carries forward into life and I wanted to write about that. We find things that are our little corners, things we are good at that we can fall back on because at least we'll always have this - and what then when it seems maybe you aren't as good as you thought you were? Where does that corner you carved disappear?

I have trouble with memories, I have trouble with reading and registering, lately i have trouble with writing and without these i lose my sense of self and worth. And then I am forced to start over and over. It is a small but constant grief to me. Nevertheless, we shall persevere

[yourlocalmissingtexture]

Edgy longing/lovelorn poem from three years ago (Nov. 10, 2020) ayeeee

The Fool

What nerve you have!

To long after he

That drinks the joy of a thousand poppies

While you offer but your heart,

A joy in which he must open not his veins,

But his mind to understand.

[maybe-itsforthebest]

the world is rotting

my stomach heaves

a pile of maggots

on top of the leaves

it's dark outside

it's dark in my mind

pulsating colors

responding in kind

rob me of myself

hair matted, unkempt

shaking, crying

i'm comatose, dying

- j (x)

[eatdrinkandburyme]

I was going to write a post about lego but then I got sidetracked by goblin market and I got lost once again in the horrors of the british empire

[earthytzipi]

the mask

it would almost be funny, if it wasn’t so pathetic.

you have to reclaim your body inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter, the needle buzzing its way into your ears and never fully leaving. not really. you end up itching for more. as though, somehow, seeing your skin slowly replaced with colors and designs makes up for the years of blankness.

blankness. just another word for emptiness. just another word for being a snarl in the seamless fabric of the world, something that the weaver intends to root out, snap, and reattach invisible. 

so you put neon signs on yourself. so you show the world precisely who you are, etched several layers deep, colorful roots replacing the beige warp. and then you wake up and you’re not a teenager anymore and you realize you don’t actually know who that is. living has been a protest for so long you don’t recognize your own face.

it would almost be funny, if it wasn’t so pathetic.

staring at yourself in the mirror is almost too painful, even without the dizzying effect of someone else’s pupils meeting your own. the ants are back, crawling up and down your spine, carbonating your stomach, and you only know one way to calm them down, so you reach for it. it burns on its way down your throat, but after, it’s just blissful numbness.

you know it’s not good for you, but standing in the kitchen at midnight, feet cold on the tile floor, you can’t bring yourself to care. you just want to sleep. if you could just sleep, maybe that person in the mirror would go away and you would know your own face.

you reach for it again. it can’t get any worse. you’ve already gone there after you promised yourself you wouldn’t. you can’t even bring yourself to name this thing. it doesn’t matter. you’re already spiraling out into easy black. the bed is suddenly comfortable.

it would almost be funny, if it wasn’t so pathetic.

when graduation approaches, you shave your head because your hair hurts. you immediately regret it. since when were impulsive decisions allowed to be ones that other people could see? you retreat to the couch and the computer and the everything that is and you pretend that that everything is fine. about an hour before you realize tears are streaming down your face.

the paint is cracking again. you panic.

it would almost be funny, if it wasn’t so pathetic.

the person you’ve created would never have lasted forever. the weaver’s scissors approach.

[sonknuxadow]

Just read the Knuckles comics and they are just

The whole thing feels like a meme in the waiting. The hypocrisy of the echidnas, the chillidog drug trip, the fact they just casually give Charmy brain damage, the fact that half the time I can't even tell which echidna is which. And that's not even going on about the elephant man and knuckles becoming Jesus and dying.

10/10 recommended

the chilidogs laced with drugs is certainly a top 10 ken penders moment

actually half the stuff mentioned here isnt even from the knuckles comic knuckles dying and coming back to life and charmy brain damage are from the main series. penders didnt even write charmy brain damage. unless by knuckles comics you just mean comics that have knuckles in them

[leonieanderson]

“ And in the end I fear I was becoming less of myself- give me a reason for this insanity, if not love”

Leonie Anderson in The Silence in us

Soon to be released November 2023

[lohstandfound]

im jumping ahead with the richjake bare au but thinking about the 'you know we're still cool, right?' line during i think two households, and having that line coming from michael to jake

because suddenly michael has realised that he's not the only one, so much happened and their friendships have fractured and jake's perfect life is falling apart and michael realises that he can help, maybe just a little bit

he doesn't know how but he tries to lend a hand out to him

'you know we're still cool, right?'

but jake doesn't say anything, just taking the bottle michael bought him

maybe if michael was a little more observant, maybe if he was a little more open, maybe things would be different

jenna assures him its not his fault, but how can he not blame himself?