Tag Archives: alcohol

Just a little ice to numb the pain.


I don’t drink much. I can remember the last time I was drunk,
and that was months ago. One, maybe two. Then I’m done.

Being drunk only amplifies whatever mood my heart is in.
But one or two, and that softens it. The gray sadness
becomes a little more dull, a little more bearable.

Tonight I’m drinking water and it occurs to me;

I want a drink.


The Comfort of Drinking

I drink and his grip loosens

He doesn’t like the smell of it

So I drink a little bit more and he stops holding me

I drink and drink to get him to go away

To leave me with this smile and a lack of hurt

And it feels so good to laugh

Without a barrage of tears threatening to storm

So I laugh and I like this feeling of being alone

Without being lonely from him

Because once I sober up

Once the drinking ceases

And the world isn’t spinning on its axis

He’ll come back with his arms open wide

And his lips pressed to my ear whispering,

“I’ve missed you.”

Super Hero Secrets

So what if I let him touch me a little roughly?
What’s the problem with a few bruises anyway?
It’s art, or that’s how I like to look at it
It’s his love on my skin – it’s his desire
So I keep going until I clench the sheets
With balled hands trying not to push him away
What’s another secret to add to my list?

My fingers touch the surface of things I’d like to have
And I see myself taking them in ways that go unseen
My hearts speeds up a little at the added pressure in my bag
Teeth bite my tongue to keep the giddy smile away
It’s the only time I feel triumphant, like I’ve won
And really, what’s wrong with feeling like that?

The sting feels nice going down my throat
It makes me smile when I think about it and no one knows
I only drink socially, I say, though of course I’m lying
I drink when I can see the moon, when I can see the stars
When I can feel my heart beating against my ribcage

Doctors give me sugar-coated pills that go down without water (vodka)
I roll them on my tongue for the sweet taste and when it’s gone
Well, who cares if I have one more, one more, just one more?
I feel music in my head and twinkles against every inch of my skin
And what’s wrong with feeling like a super hero?

So I can’t feel my fingers any more
Or my toes or my lips or my ears or – anything –
And I touch the object I took the other day, only I can’t feel it
And there is no giddy feeling in my stomach from it
And I don’t get the aching feeling from the scratches on my back
On my sides on my stomach on my legs
There is no sting from my drinks and I can’t taste the sugar
I can’t lift my head and why did the twinkles leave my skin?
Suddenly my eyes are closing and I realize there are tears on my face
And I don’t know how I got this way and I only want to feel better
Except that’s just another lie I’ve added to that list
All I want it so feel like a super hero again
Instead I feel like one is dying inside of me, dying around me

But no one will see the super hero I was
Because there are no twinkles on my skin, or music in my head
And there are scratches that show my weakness
And there are the contents of my sick stomach on the floor
The pills are swimming in the alcohol and I just wonder
Why that hadn’t dissolved and just done their job correctly
But then I think, maybe that’s because they actually did