The staining aroma we so avidly inhaled in the reign of night
At tables made of glass that reflet the moonlight
The faint white illumination lit our misdeeds of younger
Keeps me reminiscent of days of simpler

Plagued & blessed by lack of consideration
No respect for damnation
We lived without hesitation to be free
To feel we truly needed to be

I sit alone now inhaling what was once shared and sought-after
Feeling but trying not to think-of those days of before
Watching storms roll through, making me feel spectator to memories of more
I retreat into myself, knowing those days are over

I could never imagine I'd look back on those days and call them simpler.
I keep running from what i can't see and it's lead me in circles
Cycle through the times to get to the next

I am holding
my last cigarette
and sitting.
Reading my favorite novel,
Vanity Fair.
Pouring the wine.
I used to drink all the night
with some friends
that nobody knows about them.
The poem was written after,
the ***** poem.
They told me
sometimes my poem was about it.
It was too late to say
that the things they only have
is about ***** mind.

The man
who was sitting
alone under the rooftop
with burning cigarette
on the right hand,
feeling beauty,
looking at the night sky,
waiting to see the moonlight,
it was me.

I was like that a while ago
Now I’m on a field reading a book
It’s a book of poems by Sylvia Plath
And the world looks terribly sad
On the horizon but here the grass is green.

Your face looks blue in this light
Words softly said… you’re wonderfully lyrical
When you’re sad. What a terrible thing to say
Suddenly exclaimed, a laugh, swift movement
And drag of a cigarette. You stare at me

And say: that’ll **** you you know
But you look so good when you do it
So does it matter really and I look at you
And laugh and feel alive for the first time
In years and years and whispering you say

Remember the time we had met
And you showed me the way you painted
So dreamlike, so expressionistic.
I stared into the canvas and was ******
Into your mind, you put me into a trance

As potent as the nicotine rush of a cigarette
Take a draw and I watch the smoke
Rise into the air and far away…
How much of this city’s air is tobacco
A quick query a weak laugh.

Golden hour and the green hills
Turn into sand dunes collapsing
In on themselves, things come and go
In that way, time passes in a blink of an eye
And suddenly there is a void.

Nothing remains unless you put it on a canvas.
My body tears itself apart every seven years
And one day I will stop with the blink of an eye
And I never would’ve been here. They’ll stay.
The sands of time may drag me away

The universe through my eyes
May implode and blink out
But regardless of what happens to me
They’ll stay. They’ll always stay.
Your eyes are drawn to a canvas

On which was painted dreams
A splash of red, figure shining gold
With grey above it being the smoke
From a half used cigarette.
Staring at it hours after it’s conception

You tell me it’s the best work
You’ve seen in a long time
And even though I can’t take compliments
I turn to you and say, name it for me.
You call it expression of sunlight.

Cold damp skin,
Midnight clouds deepen within,
raindrops brew unto me as i whip out
a tasteless, tarry, smoky cigar.
Feeling the pain of nights rain,
Train horn rings through my veins and I pierce
my cold lips to the plastic casing of my fresh cigar to
continue keeping me feeling alive.

Opening tunes of musical melodies, bringing me a nostalgic time lapse of pain and pleasure.

Thinking of my life as it passes me by,
a bitter, strong taste of smoke hits my tongue, but i blow out the tar filled air out through my warm mouth.
It continues to rain, when i always feel the pain.

Living life as a misfit, unwanted, unloved and always forgotten.
As my dart vanishes into the air, i look through the dark park across the street and remember last nights nostalgic memories of us dancing together to someone else's house party while the live band plays symphonies and rings unending beats into my hair.

God I hate when the cigarette ends

I am never prepared for the feeling to end
When I’m out and wasted and the time slips away and everything slips away. I look up at the hands raised moving slowly and slower as it all drags on. We are moving around in a tiny space, all together but not. All alone but not. I find someone to **** with my eyes every once in a while. Im glad we found each other here. Im flattered and grateful and full. I can’t recall the feeling of need in these moments. I can't recall anything. Im staring at my feet- stomping from the dance floor to the front door. The cigarette doesn’t end here. Nothing ends or begins. I see someone I know. Im so glad you are here! I don’t know why I am glad but I am so so glad. Im watching my feet stomp from the front door back in. It's dark at the bar, its dark on the dance floor, it's dark on the sidewalk. Im raising my hands now. Im so glad to be sharing this moment with you all. I cant imagine why I felt so bad before I came here tonight. What could be so bad in the morning?
What could be so bad? god I hate when the club turns the lights on at 2am. I'm stomping my way to the front door. I stomp my way home and up the steps. My living rooms looks different when its spins like this. I *****… i'm starting to remember why I felt the need to get this drunk. I remember "what could be so bad in the morning".
It's morning now. Im on the porch. God I hate when the cigarette ends. I hate when the time drags on, and I remember.

Helicopter water ballet
And Charlie's on the grid

Front and centering feng shui
Choreographed in the fields
Where ****** sticks to kids

War is the fashion
That never wears out

Smell its smoke
Sickly sweet and orange
In the early decay of morning

I roll you in cigarette's paper
and lit the fire
I inhale
and exhale you
deep into my throat
And I blow off you again in the air I take
How it makes my heartburn with love
I think I lose you every single time I do smoking
It hurts me with suffering on my lung
And I always keep loving
Why must I imagine a love like this?
If I knew, I swear I would never try to do this
I am sorry,
I've lost you like my wish

Love is so beautiful
But so temporary
Leaving me grasping for another breath
So still and defined
But so volatile
Dissapering after a moment
Like smoke from my cigarette
Leaving me wanting more

a stranger points to a smoke sign and asks if i smoke; i say no
now that stranger is a friend and my no is a sometimes
and i wonder if it was a warning when he said that smoking was bad.

had i known, i would have answered the anxiety is worse and the cancer can't really **** me when i already feel dead inside.
instead, i waved him off with a laugh that meant "i know. isn't it obvious?"

...

the rot caught up to me two years later, outside the same bar where i'd pestered another friend into putting down a box.
it was a betrayal then, when i brought the sick to my lips and inhaled the poison.
it was a betrayal again when he found out.

i tried to appease the scolding,
argue that i've stopped smoking.
would it be a betrayal now to say
"i still think of rot and decay"?