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Sheriff McGregor
February 24th, 2016, 12:35 AM
I call this "the guitarist"
Trigger warning: a theme of addiction is present

Originating from his breath,
the smell of self destruction lingers in the nearby air.
It's the only remedy to mend his broken heart.
He plays guitar for the locals and the tourists,
Whoever throws a green piece of paper
In that emptied out pickle jar. As the pickle jar rises,
the mason jar decreases. The guitarist
knows it'll be empty before a quarter 'til ten.
Each equally sad, self medicating
member of the audience lines up with requests
Of the brutal, aching songs that rhyme with their lives.
The audience hears of the woman they lost
As if the song uniquely correlates to their story.
For the guitarist, each song is about the woman he left behind.
By the nights end, he'll be consumed with
Small town fame and intoxicated by homemade whiskey.
As he repeats this unfulfilled cycle night after night,
It gives him enough motivation to crawl into a cold bed and,
Provides something to look forward to the next night.

The Byrd
February 24th, 2016, 06:54 PM
That's really good

Faith Collapsing
June 22nd, 2016, 12:04 AM
I love this style of poetry. Really cool poem.

Just JT
June 22nd, 2016, 09:57 PM
I'd like to read more....

Mars
June 22nd, 2016, 11:04 PM
Please don't post in threads that are inactive for two or more months :locked: