Transparent were the tattooed tears

which decorate her sunken eyes

Evaporated voices consume

her tongues sheltered lies

And as the fresh Indian ink

blurs her history of pain

She releases from the bottle

a downpour of whisky rain

No umbrella, or sturdy hat

just alcoholic puddles to violently stamp

As she murders every precious minute

healthy stocks keep her damp

Trapped in a deep well

with no definition or shape

Just dark and endless

and no opportunity for escape

A forgotten cigarette

as lonely as she

Creates patterns of confusion

so beautifully

Before she sleeps

Johnnie Walker whispers in her ear

“Let the salt of depression

replace the ink in each tear”