addiction Archives - Spillwords

Alcoholism

Steve PearsonSeptember 18, 2018

Alcoholism written by: Steve Pearson @StevePearsonUK I am the thought that you shouldn't speak I am the glint in your eye I crush the reason that...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Gambling My Words

Ann Christine TabakaSeptember 3, 2018

Gambling My Words written by: Ann Christine Tabaka @TabakaChris I sold my book, then I sold my heart, and now I barter my soul for a bag of marble...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Vicio

Jose A GomezJune 21, 2018

Vicio written by: José A Gómez Como explicar esta compulsión que atrae y me lleva a ese deseo maligno, que envenena mi espíritu e intranquiliza mi a...

Jose A GomezPoetrySpanish2 min read

Sweet Whispers Of The Night

George Gad EconomouApril 8, 2018

Sweet Whispers of the Night written by: George Gad Economou The strong scent of pot was the first thing to hit her nostrils as soon as she wal...

EnglishLiterature75 min read

Gene Trees

Sona WilaeMarch 30, 2018

Gene Trees written by: Sona Wilae @sonawilae What say you, when the rent is due? Why shrill squalid souls for cheap wine? Your children await green...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

THE OPIUM OF VIOLENCE

Arun DashMarch 25, 2018

THE OPIUM OF VIOLENCE written by: Arun Dash The opium of violence That your race Has fallen for, So horrendously, May very soon lead you To an im...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

The Exemplification Of Carter Winslow

Amy J. MarkstahlerMarch 8, 2018

The Exemplification of Carter Winslow written by: Amy J. Markstahler @Ajmarkstahler Carter never had to want for much in life. In fact, he had ever...

EnglishFeatured PostLiterature11 min read

Sliced Ice

Michael SheaFebruary 17, 2018

Sliced Ice written by: Michael Shea @calmsbehaviour In plain spite of me. I try not to announce me as I flounce past those who would pounce tryi...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

A Puppy And His Boy

Connor BallFebruary 5, 2018

A Puppy And His Boy written by: Connor Ball A puppy and his boy A happy puppy and a happy boy. One plays with a stick the other with an Xbox. Somet...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

A Boy’s Story

NikNikJanuary 20, 2018

A Boy's Story written by: NikNik Young man moves in to a small town Made a few friends so he thought Cliché as it sounds all around It's a story wi...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Kick Heroin Overture

Clint IrwinDecember 23, 2017

Kick Heroin Overture written by: Clint Irwin These bodies imbibing and eliminating are not the result of selective pressure to manifest destiny or s...

EnglishPoetry3 min read

My Addiction

Robbie MassoDecember 2, 2017

My Addiction written by: Robbie Masso The road is starting to look the same. Every day I pass the same trees with a cold hand and dry lips. I kn...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Days

G.R. WesloSeptember 15, 2017

Days written by: G.R. Weslo @broccoli0001 Day 1 Burns Day 2 Hurts Day 3 Tears Day 4 "give in...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Smoke Of Cigarettes

Haaris Ali WaqasSeptember 4, 2017

Smoke Of Cigarettes written by: Haaris Ali Waqas @haaris.ali15 Though the smoke fogged all I could see, It made me feel all I could never be; But...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

I'm 35, I'm from Newark, DE, and I was named after an actor. I'm bipolar, I'm an activist, and I put my beliefs into my stories. I think that we can use fiction to convey a sad truth, like Steinbeck used to do. My biggest influences are Richard Matheson, Ambrose Bierce, and John Steinbeck. I'm indebted to my friend, Amy, who gave me my first idea and wouldn't let me give up. I owe everything to her and all of my friends who not only cheer me on everyday, but have helped me discover myself.

Bonnie And Clyde by Steven M Baird

Bonnie and Clyde were landlocked, shell-shocked by their long walk. Beggars among beggars, they were stragglers who fell behind. The miles were arid and sacred and rising, and time hid the dead and the intentions of the living.
He, with his Elvis-era sideburns and tortured knee, and she, with her dirty floral dress and dusty high tops, crouched beside the short scrub, tending to their sweat.
Clyde remembered his grandfather well. Mateo was a writer of some repute in their village, and he sometimes seemed to be a wide-awake dreamer. He had kindness in his eyes and a muscular timber in his voice.
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