All Things Killing You

I used to think the sickness was a virus,
poison from foods, not the beverages,
too young to understand the hangover remedy
of fingers reaching back to pull forward
toxins you ingested willingly.
I stand by, watching a slow suicide,
useless against the monsters you fight,
as addiction continues to hold you hostage.

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You push yourself for the highest position,
expectations exceed capabilities,
a love-hate relationship blossoms
at a point that you worked so hard for.
You appreciate the pay that brings pain
from working past logical possibility.

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The smoke is handled by the wind,
swirling circles make halos
with every drag you take.
Fate’s subtle reminder of a slow death,
you justify it’s coping with stress.
Nicotine whispers sweet nothings in your ear
and you’re addicted to the intimacy it brings.

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Insomnia makes a deal with stress,
shakes the hand that holds your eyelids open,
forcing activity into a restless mind.
He rolls your conscience into a ball
and plays ping-pong with your thoughts,
leaving you awake to keep score.

Mr. Lonely

Time is precious, and lonely knows it.
He is a greedy man, stealing moments
that should be spent filling your heart,
not your cup. He locks your mind in a
box, leaving the slideshow of memories
from a time you were not alone. He
leaves your aching heart to mend its
own, knowing your only company is
pain and the numbing substance of
your choosing.

Grieving

Red wine stained lipstick covers sad smiles
in the blissful drunkenness of grief. Unsteady
feet have never been as funny as when the
mind-numbing heat flowed through your
veins after losing the part of you that
remembers what it feels like to be happy.