please not now (what do i do)

you
are the ghost that came back to haunt me,
the monster that hides under my bed,
the skeleton in my closet,
the elephant in the room.

your eyes
follow me, judge me, mock me.
i recoil or run or hide or shrink
but i can't shake you off.

your
captive, prisoner, hostage,
you hold me and won't release me.
i want to yell, scream, punch,
i want to stay.

the glass half empty

two addicts living on a house
D-R-I-N-K-I-N-G,
first comes a tantrum,
then comes enabling
then comes apologies,
then comes sobs
in a drunken state.

inky bile

watch me
being torn apart
by the words
surfacing
how painful
this pages
tell the story
of my downfall
no one cares
how i manage
to word vomit
on an empty soul
i dry heave
little poems
cries for help
please
don't
answer

cold turkey, delirium tremens

I REGRET EVERYTHING

from the way that i looked
to the things that i said
how i let myself open
and shamed my family


I STILL CAN'T CRY

inside my head there is drowning
yet the tears won't flow
the dam shakes and shakes
but only drops spill out


LAST NIGHT I WAS CONSCIOUS

i'm not angry, love
i'm just disappointed
it keeps coming back to me
like war flashbacks


(i'm about to burst)

gin and... anything that's lying around

it's 5 in the morning
that's not time for mourning

it's just

i wish sex was as easy as porn
i'll just whip it out in front of you
and then proceed to get fucked
out of mind and life

sorry
i'm about to cry on the dancefloor
lately all i do it's try to hold it in
hating myself and trying to forget

sorry
i'm not really sorry
i still wanna cry and this is not helping

argh

alone a lone all one

i want to write something romantic:
love, love, lalalala, love
i want to sing happily in the streets
oh, to be the sun that shines so ever bright
oh, to be, in your eyes, better than the moon
oh, to be drunk in love

or maybe just drunk

i wish i could sing a lovesong
but instead i'll sing sad words
"if you want to be my lover
you gotta get with my imaginary friends"
for the only love i ever had was beer

a voice in my head reminds me i want to see you

it's a stupid voice

i will drown it out

this is not a poem, this is a drill, i repeat, it's a drill

there are only two constants in my life:
i'm turned on and i need a beer

aye aye and a bottle of rum

i'm a bad girl
i sleep with both eyes open
i steal the candy-flip from children's mouths
i crave the punishment more than the reward
i
i
i

aye aye captain
tell me where to go now
are we wandering aimlessly
because of fear or because of laziness?

i'm spontaneous when i overdose

take enough and it's poison
take enough and it's paradise
be it bottle, powder or pill
find some cheap illegal thrills
make memories to forget

please don't fall for me
i only feel things when i'm high

i talk shit but it's not an act,
it's so, so easy to let go
when there was nothing in to begin with

by the pool, drinking daikiris

everyday i feel as i'm about to burst
but i only deflate and inflate
no confetti pops out of me
no molten lava
nothing

i deflate
i inflate

i don't want dinner

no C
no E
no H
no K
no M
no O

nothing

at
all

all
i
want
is
not
being
sober

don't wanna feel my face no more

columbine
gets her blood taken out and replaced by god's blood
she's quite a rebel

columbine
wants oblivion and isn't too shy to ask
such a lovely lowlife

columbine
feels unworthy and smells badly
so she drinks to that

columbine
wakes up wet everyday
touch me, she'll say

we cannot reverse the entropy of the soul

so i pour the libation
the fire makes the shadows
and the shadows follow the light
beyond what we can reach
finally, the beat drops
and my heart implodes
creating an universe
out of sorrow
but the show must go on
i measure a cup of raw liver
and eat it with my bare hands
i must grow strong,
for the winter
before the deep sleep
takes me to dreams of death

sweat lines racing through the lanes of my body

back to the wet jungle of concrete
where monkeys hold their dogs
and yell into tiny metal boxes
i stroll as if the king of it
while the sweat drips drips drips

decomposers on the forest soil
aren't enough to clean us

now i know how joanne of arc felt

drowning in soaked dreams
i wake up gasping for air
the all consuming fire
it comes and goes
and i wish to burn

happy hour

it's loud in here
the ringing noise-
and you won't stop talking

i try to make myself quiet
foetal position
my mind is a mountain
and the thoughts are clouds
that should pass by
but instead
there comes a mist and a weeping rain

i would say anything to shut myself up
but words are not enough
too much and never enough
so pour me a cup
or two or three-
i won't remember tomorrow