I wish a dream was easy to buy into
like a cancer stick;— dying for a piece.
Inhaling vapors, and blowing off
smoke in a puff of dreams.

Life is like a cigarette; an addiction
to living with feelings of regret.
Time is all ashes, slowly deducting
your frame till death,
And love consumes the lungs;
too much of the wrong kind,—becomes toxic.
To advertise the biggest buyers of such dreams
for a rich life like a **** cigarette;
To be honest with the kind of addiction,
being rich appears costly.

But I guess if I'm an old truck blowing
smoke, it just means I'm exhausted.
Addicted to the cigarette life,
whether tip toeing, or running towards death,
either side, do play it cautious.
Cos whatever end you smoke the cigarette,
all roads lead to death.

i watched her extinguish
one of the candles
with dainty fingertips
while i hastily blew
the other one out
with a puff of cheeks
trying to be helpful
but getting it wrong
seeing what i had done
she scalded me playfully
deep down meaning it
telling how a candle
should never be put out
in that way

for blowing it out risks
expelling the positivity
all of the happiness
that its burning
had built up for those
who first lit that wick
bathing in the glow
of its healing light
that flickering flame
that keeps our shadows
dancing together
arm in arm
even if we simply
remain wrapped up
sat side by side

i don't believe
her theory necessarily
but i am left wondering
of all the candles
i have ever blown out
birthday celebrations
cosy evenings in
candle-lit meals
if what she says is true
i can't help but think
about those moments
of happiness and joy
that i have wasted
simply blown away
with a vacant breath
and an unwitting mind

When I get to Saturn,
Feet as sure as stars,

I’ll cry out in a voice,
Not a blemish or a scar,

“I’ll do it right this time”
No mistakes or misspelt words.

I won’t forget my backpack,
Cut my sandwiches in thirds.

I won't hurt anyone like I did in the last place,
This orbital acquittal for my crime.

I’ll love the right people, in the way they deserve.
And I’ll hold them for the right amount of time.

See, Earth is a write-off for me
I just did it all wrong

I tried until I bled and shook
This desert’s where I belong

I’ll wear this ring like a holy chaplet
My sins ice, dust, and rock

My memories sullied yellow
I leave them past the airlock

My mistakes can't reach to Saturn,
Though their fingers are thick and strong

I can’t break anyone from here,
My arms just aren’t that long.

There are no decisions here to fail,
No stanzas left to rhyme.  

Just me and all these moons saying,
“She’ll do it right this time.”

Go ahead and praise your ear-****** demons then,
While I lay to rest under the waters with my sirens
Drowning out all the noise you made in my life.

In the fridge
There sits the bottle of Joy
Every Thursday She becomes my friend
Every Friday Her and I fight

In the drawer
There sits the bottle of Pain
I try to keep it away
But every Saturday
I find it open

In the bin
There sits the bottle of Regret
With its deafening yells
Every Sunday morning

Three Drinks and I are friends
And then we fight
And then we make up again.