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I stop in my tracks, Listening A hollow clinking in the darkness In an alleyway, somewhat familiar Vacant and forgotten in the twilight hours Except for the lingering cigarette smoke And the scent of dehumanizing hate And a clink Low and somehow beneath the dense, dank dark A sound disillusioning and honed to a fine point, like that of a blade meant to harvest death A clink And another clink                                     There is a man sitting near the end of the alley                                     At the back of the throat of Hell itself                                     He has his head down                                     But through the thick black smudge of night                                     I can still see the base of a brown glass bottle tap the bottom of an upper row of teeth He stops, and looks up at me with eyes that resemble mine a little too much for my comfort                                     He brings the bottle down, and lowers his head, gazing at it as if for the first time                                     Suddenly he snaps his eyes up to mine, instantly staring into the deep void that is my soul                                     He smiles a knowing smile, and thrusts the bottle against his teeth one last time.               It does much more than clink.
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May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 3:17 AM UTC
Sins of the Father
I stop in my tracks, Listening A hollow clinking in the darkness In an alleyway, somewhat familiar Vacant and forgotten in the twilight hours Except for the lingering cigarette smoke And the scent of dehumanizing hate And a clink Low and somehow beneath the dense, dank dark A sound disillusioning and honed to a fine point, like that of a blade meant to harvest death A clink And another clink                                     There is a man sitting near the end of the alley                                     At the back of the throat of Hell itself                                     He has his head down                                     But through the thick black smudge of night                                     I can still see the base of a brown glass bottle tap the bottom of an upper row of teeth He stops, and looks up at me with eyes that resemble mine a little too much for my comfort                                     He brings the bottle down, and lowers his head, gazing at it as if for the first time                                     Suddenly he snaps his eyes up to mine, instantly staring into the deep void that is my soul                                     He smiles a knowing smile, and thrusts the bottle against his teeth one last time.               It does much more than clink.
#dream#alcohol#dark#nightmares#alcoholism#alley
LunarLena
Written by
LunarLena
32/GF
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 3:17 AM UTC
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