third weekend in a row that puke was on the menu. she found marks on herself that she could not remember taking place. how many times do you shower in a bathroom you don’t own before the realization hits you? 

she didn’t realize how heavy her life was hitting her, untill bam. it was monday and suddenly she was awake again. her head foggy and children running at her in screaming bunches. no one warned her of this jolt of fear, when the headache becomes so much that she forgets even the simplest forms of sign language to communicate with her deaf students. 

her heart longed for it though. in the moments of sobriety she had this slight fear. what have i become? am i really now this party girl that no one knows. just the one with the vodka and orange juice i suppose. she wondered when it would kill her. rehab? intervention? when she coughed up an entire lung and light up the next cigarette. no no no. that had already happened

i am bitter and afraid. to scorned by past love to even open myself to another woman with a listening ear. my bandmates hear it in the lyrics. they feel it in our notes. when i get to the extent that im bent over on the ground screaming that i have nothing left to sing. no romance but the box of rocks i carry on my back. i cannot give that to anyone without a bottle of whiskey in my hand. i cannot open the floodgates without knowing they’ll flow into your lap and beg you to wipe the tears away. and thats how it ends. 

begging for love. 
begging for mercy.
begging for someone to stop me.
lord knows i wont do it.