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daniel-hodgson
daniel-hodgson
Scottish
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Words143
There’s some comfort In a Cigarette – Slack on the lips, Balanced as a Newton’s cradle, The smoke rising, A heavy silver blue Lifting and settling in the air; a toxic mist, Emerging – volcanic - from the singed Yellowing paper. And the mind clears and Slows, for a moment and settles as the nicotine infuses With the brain. And it feels Good. You tap the ash and it falls, dissolving into hot powder – you take another draw. Breathe deep. “Smoking’s bad for the health” someone says. As the smoke -silver blue – Travels down the throat, into the lungs; inflating - Exhale (more refined now) “I know” you reply. Give some excuse or other, for the habit – Needs to be kicked - Their eyes flash to Yellowing skin which reflects the yellowing paper cradling the ash encasing veins of red. Smiling, a crooked smile, you take another draw “the last one.” you say, “good.” They reply. And there’s some beauty to be found in The silver blue smoke pirouetting in the air A poison, personally selected. Some assurance in this perpetual act of self-destruction, Some comfort in knowing what it is that’s killing you – Though it takes some mystery out of life - Conducting one’s own mortality can be quite the security. Inhale again, Turning the filter, Ash drops, The word Marlboro (If there’s some money in the bank) Stares back. A Cigarette is a sin to be shared or taken in private, A true pleasure which leaves one wholly unsatisfied - Something in which to partake with others; the rich, the poor, the lame - Those who would not normally give you a second glance, nor perhaps you them - “Got a Cigarette I could *** they ask “Sure” you say As you reach into your pocket, Pull out the packet, Weathering, And hold out an offering. In that exchange Alone Is a bond born, a moment of connection, some common ground. You turn away, “Smoking’s bad for the health.” Someone says, to them, “I know.” They reply, give some excuse And then smile That crooked smile.
0
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 2:01 PM UTC
daniel-hodgson
Cigarette
There’s some comfort In a Cigarette – Slack on the lips, Balanced as a Newton’s cradle, The smoke rising, A heavy silver blue Lifting and settling in the air; a toxic mist, Emerging – volcanic - from the singed Yellowing paper. And the mind clears and Slows, for a moment and settles as the nicotine infuses With the brain. And it feels Good. You tap the ash and it falls, dissolving into hot powder – you take another draw. Breathe deep. “Smoking’s bad for the health” someone says. As the smoke -silver blue – Travels down the throat, into the lungs; inflating - Exhale (more refined now) “I know” you reply. Give some excuse or other, for the habit – Needs to be kicked - Their eyes flash to Yellowing skin which reflects the yellowing paper cradling the ash encasing veins of red. Smiling, a crooked smile, you take another draw “the last one.” you say, “good.” They reply. And there’s some beauty to be found in The silver blue smoke pirouetting in the air A poison, personally selected. Some assurance in this perpetual act of self-destruction, Some comfort in knowing what it is that’s killing you – Though it takes some mystery out of life - Conducting one’s own mortality can be quite the security. Inhale again, Turning the filter, Ash drops, The word Marlboro (If there’s some money in the bank) Stares back. A Cigarette is a sin to be shared or taken in private, A true pleasure which leaves one wholly unsatisfied - Something in which to partake with others; the rich, the poor, the lame - Those who would not normally give you a second glance, nor perhaps you them - “Got a Cigarette I could *** they ask “Sure” you say As you reach into your pocket, Pull out the packet, Weathering, And hold out an offering. In that exchange Alone Is a bond born, a moment of connection, some common ground. You turn away, “Smoking’s bad for the health.” Someone says, to them, “I know.” They reply, give some excuse And then smile That crooked smile.
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