Smoke rings in the dark
he was blowing the pain
in rings of sorrow
the leather jacket of rebellion
the uncut hair
the unruly smirk gone from his features
a fag in his fingers
burning the calloused pads
a thumb stroking the strings
thin ones
thick ones
coiled strums
humming to his smoke rings
the cloud growing in his mouth
down his throat
into his lungs
whiskey laying empty on the table
bottles lying on the broken floor
clattering with the storm
the clouds of smoke rain
a heavy shower
the world dying in endless grey
with only cigarettes and fire whiskey for mates
abandoned glass jug at bare feet
crying from the clouds
smoke rings
of what used to be
see only the dark
the smoke rings hazy in numb
the strings slice
the coils unwound
the thunder hits
the lightning reigns
closer
closer to the storm
beating on the clear bottles
screaming in agony
the rising action
the curtains murdered
the floor boards blood-curdling
every fiber of being drenched of blood
the cymbals crash!
silence
a tear
drops off the stumble chin
mixes in the whiskey
and the rain falls
long over due
and the cloud of smoke rings
is free