How can I feel the extreme pain of loss and deepest dark despair,
from something that reality affirms was never mutually there?

I loved you and my heart stands witness to every lie you told,
yet it is I who loved for real that is left to feel the frigid cold.

You made me feel both my very best and my very worst,
leaving my mind torn by memory that is both loved and cursed?

Oh Dionysus.
How I miss you,
but your blood....gives me anxiety.
It makes people hate me, I can't stand to be
alone.

I can't say I don't miss dancing with you
But it's not much of a party with just the two of us.
No one else is willing to dance for long.

There was a time where you were,
my only friend
and you would smile and take me in your arms while
I sobbed and enjoyed the haze of your being.
I in turn, worshipped you. Even if research, candles and hymns, libations of your own blood and my perfume could hardly be enough.

It's all I have, my lord.

While I miss the roiling, twisting madness of your magnificence
I shouldn't be there.
I want to be, desperately
but I pick up a bottle and look at myself in disgust and shame.
It's not you, it's me.
This is far from a disillusionment of gods.
I will still dance, my lord, just perhaps not as closely as before.

i didn’t fear death until i almost died.
i used to welcome its cold grasp.
i used to wish it upon myself.
now all i want to do is live.
i want to feel the sun on my skin.
i want to see my family live and grow.
i want to love again.
i finally want to live after 8 years of pain

In time,
The swollen heart
Becomes a symbol
Of crossing borders

And when you find the unspoken words
Of your sleepless soul
You’ve found the bordering nation of freedom
That when met against your dreams
Melts into your boundaries
And two become one

And in time,
Your past fades into the seams
Of your reckless ambitions
And your blood pours down towards
your ankles
Preparing you to kick off your feet
And fly towards a future

Where you are found to be free
From your own shackles
and someday you’ll smile
As you look back at what you’ve left behind

And you’ll find
That in time,
You’ll be free from your fears

for my addiction, i'd run a thousand miles
my addiction was very versatile;
sometimes found in a vial,
most of the times, juvenial
ALWAYS considered a lifestyle

I’m addicted to you
and the way you made me feel.
I spent the nights after it ended
going through withdrawals
that were almost as bad as when i forgot my medication for three days straight.
Every time i saw you made me
want to relapse
just to feel your skin against mine.
Now i’m no longer addicted to you.
You’re just a bad memory
and a former fix.

Her voice, sweeter than buttercream
- Salty words won’t pucker her song,
Honey bees follow her adoringly -
The kindest person ever to come along

Her legs, thick with gorgeous muscle
- A tornado couldn't knock her down,
Tree trunks turn green with jealousy -
She's the strongest person in town

Her eyes, alight with warm welcome
- a blackout wouldn't dim her glow,
Lesser stars shrink away in envy -
She's the friendliest person to know

She’ll protect anyone who needs it,
Forgive the most egregious slight
Faced with anger, she won't feed it
Full of grace, she’s everything right

Sadly, he won’t go the way of Earl
But who wouldn’t cheer his self-demise
He who siphoned power, stifled song
And stole the laughter from her eyes

Somehow, she’s still tornado strong
The bees know she’ll sing once more
Her trust might need a little time but
When she’s ready, glowing, she’ll soar

NCL August 2019

When I was fifteen all I ever thought about
Was killing myself
And how I was in love with my best friend
But she didn’t love me back
It’s been six years and I’m so happy
I no longer feel a need
To drain my veins
I can take my medication without counting the number of pills
I no longer grow my nails out
To drag them across thin skin
And maybe I’m struggling right now
But I no longer want to die
So I guess I can call it a win

On nights like these I find myself glancing longingly
At harsh pink scars
Wishing they’d hurry up and disappear
So I can officially close that chapter of my life
But recovery is hard
Staying clean is hardest
And I’ve never wanted more than to erase that part
Of my past

Recovery is not all meditation and green juice
It’s itching skin and irritability
It’s wanting to expose your veins for no reason at all
But needing to remind yourself you don’t do that anymore
It’s accepting the acts you did to yourself
No matter how ashamed you are

I’m proud of six years
Even if sometimes I itch to feel the sting of metal on skin
Even when I find myself digging my nails into my palms
I know that six years ago I could barely make it six hours
So I’ll acknowledge that recovery is hard
I deserve to be proud of how far I’ve come
No matter what anyone else may say