The Place Where Sorrows Hold

 
This place,
Is where sorrows hold
Any bussiness than mine
Be for trouble some souls
Drinks are plenty
Without plenty of cheer
Thrown back
In warm distaste
If sipped, it's done upon cold request.

What is this
Common ground?
Mad minds who thought
To possess the world,
Now pinching pennies
To quench their demons
Silently......
While pale darkness plays
Melancholy tunes
Paired in companion
With failure moods;
Stale smoke finds the nose, still...
Letting on at lighting up another,
If the livers fucked
So might be it the lungs too.

It's always the sobering one
Burned out bulbs
Having epiphanies,
Pick heads of stone up off marinated bars
Anchored on stools
Just one more
Before the road
Leaving a hell hole
Only to meet it;
Pray patron to place of sorrows
Saint Christopher
Be eyes, reaction, and focus
And the boys in blue
Decide it's an off kind of night.

Whatever this place holds
You'd be fool
To feed it,
Come out of the cold
Only heating flesh
Dousing spirit without purpose,
Carefully watching...
Selves empty, as a bottle
Broken, shattered
Crackling glass under the boot
Of kick me when I'm down;
All forms of despondents
Drifting through
The always open doors
Languish slaves,
Wasted away
Unwanted, untouched
As a bowl of peanuts and pretzels.

In a place,
Where sorrow holds
The plague of drink
Embodiment sold
Consumed by in varieties
Of death....
Feel no shame
Dying thirsty