Entity

Bar Side

Sitting upon worn out stool's where dust begins to collect on bar top shelves where cheap to expensive liquor stands.
The lights are dim,
The music is loud and the vibration's are bouncing off each wall.

The room is stuffy,
Even a little suffocating.
The square like ice cubes are melting into the whiskey, mixing together.

The atmosphere is heavy,
But not gloomy.

Different voices can be heard all throughout the bar side.

Arguments arise from those too drunk to even stand and slur all their words.
While others drown their sorrows,
Swallow their sins trying to make amends.

The bartender is an older gentleman,
His voice is deep and raspy.
The white button up compliments his melanin skin tone.

His eyes are deep,
And tell a story full of pain.
But I have not a single thing to gain.

Clack, the sound of 8-balls colliding.
Underneath clouds of smoke,
Making it almost impossible to see.

Stumbling on your own two feet.
Starving, just looking for something to eat.
Speaking of things you had locked away,
At the bar side wanting to stay.

Taking back whiskey like water.
Looking at photos of your daughter.

Surroundings becoming a blur,
As the music and voices begin to fade.

Close your eyes,
And let the whiskey take you away.
Kick back upon the bar side,
Welcome to the night life.

Where the wicked roam,
From day to night.

Taking back vodka like water,
Dancing like it's summer.
Laughing with those trying to stay on the far side, be apart of the dark night.

Eating words that are hard to swallow.
Wallowing, trying to make sense of everything.

Being apart of the night life,
This is the bar side.
Em.