Sobered thoughts, sharp, vibrant
cut at his emotions, a harmonious hack
with dark menacing shadows mimicking his stance.
Stooped on elbows, a depressing slumped state sits
as cracked and calloused hands tremble.
Weak with temptation desire takes over.
The smell of despair and musty poison lingers
as one more drink calms jittery nerves,
and broken intentions lie beneath low-lit lights.
Another one down, burns throat,
sullen expressions numb sentiment; vivid emotion.
External hush masks internal thoughts.
Harsh swallow…sweet oblivion.
Sorry eyes sweep surroundings,
and empty bottles summon regret.
Another whisky-drowning night,
another morning to come, mourning loss of free will.