I’ve suffered with depression and anxiety for years which along with family tragedies led me to alcoholism, close to losing everything I decided to turn it around, I asked for help and went through rehab. I then volunteered at the rehab centre until going through the training myself and becoming a qualified Peer Mentor to help other addicts of drugs and alcohol to get and stay clean and sober. ...

This piece by Amaya Contreras (2021)

“Austin’s Piece” || 9 x 12 in || Colored pencil, alcohol marker on BristolPoem: I’m too tired to fall asleepA feeling too well knownIt’s different now thoughNo longer filled with the thoughts of the lonely But with sweet thoughts of your eyes So blue and gray and clear The color of the most holy, pure water, that I wish I could swim in forever, even drink As fear creeps in, the fear of loss and...

I know you think this is your only escape Glasses filled to the brim is what seems to comfort you on your worst days But lately we’ve been having plenty of those And the bottles keep coming to console your fountain of self-pity You dwell back on the pastWhen money wasn’t so fleetingYou regret some of the choices you made back thenAnd wished you did ‘this’ instead of ‘that’But what about the cho...

I stand in water. It sloshes ’round my scuffed black leather wingtips, laps up the ankles of my rumpled dress slacks, turns khaki to the color of murky brown. Onlookers furrow their brows, incredulous that I do not see I am in danger of drowning, that if I don’t make a move for it, the water will continue to rise until it covers my soon-to-be-bald head. What they do not realize is I have alrea...

That potent sense of disconnectIt follows him, or so he suspectsYou see, no where's ever felt like homeAs hard as he's tried to call it his ownInfinite delirious morningsHe'll find himself on that window-ledgeThoughts soundtracked by a choir of yearningsTaking a first light walk along the edgeHe tries to fix it, with drunken nights and blurry eyesWith crushing crowds and every elixir offered by...

I’ve seen too many like him,Eyes and faces gone,Teeth grey bits of cloudFallen from the sky.The rest of them stagger and jeer,Stowaways of the open airSlung across a sea of streetsBy insatiable storms,Gums bleeding in sympathy With diseased kidneys.Still they share their vodka;Even now some decency escapesThe filthy carapace of years.Urine is the scent they wear.If they were ever guided by gent...