empty tears

"empty tears"
There in the dismal glow 

of the television screen 

he finds himself crying again 

not because it hurts 

But because it's there again. 

He sits silently inside his chair 

lost inside his own mind 

as the tv spits its hues of

blues and greens onto his face. 

A bottle of Jack 

sits by his side 

as his arm hangs 

over the armrest 

and his fingers dangle 

but a mere space away. 

The ice in his glass 

has long since melted 

but he prefers his whiskey warm anyway 

when the pain 

has him so torn. 

His whiskey stained tears 

roll down his face 

as he searches 

for the logic of this darkness. 

Remnants of the day 

no longer linger 

on his walls 

but the wear of the night 

hangs low under his eyes. 

His lips have not tasted 

a sweet touch 

for so long 

but find the bittersweet company 

of a warm whiskey bottle every night. 

The thick smell of tears 

and whiskey 

and sweat 

hang heavy in his room 

as he sits inside 

his own stench of bitterness 

to question his darkness 

as it knows all of his pain. 

Drenched 

in his own depressing filth 

he grabs that empty glass again 

and pours his liquid destruction again 

not because it hurts 

but because that pain is there again.

-Armando Torres