You're just like
My cigarette
Temporary
To help forget
That I am
A walking debt
A life that rightly
Belongs to death
And it may be
The reason why
I'm taking the fast route back
The smoke in my lungs
You on my mind
Both to shorten my stolen life
And "render unto caesar that which is caesar's"

This is for the three A.M writers,
The four A.M coffee drinkers,
because sleep isn’t useful at this point.
This is for the daughter that lost her mother
at age twelve and never stopped smiling.


This is for the boy that knows that the
closet will only be kind to him
for a little while longer
but can’t bring himself to leave quite yet,


I see you.


I see the smile fade for just a second,
the small tear run down your cheek.
I see how quickly you wipe it away,
scanning the room to make sure no one saw,
but I did.

This is for the social smokers,
and the casual drinkers and
the avid vapors that think that cotton candy
flavored juices won’t give you cancer…
I see you.


I see you post drag, look at the cigarette
like it's the first time one has ever been in your hand.
I see the moment you realize you want
your lungs to give out. I see you raise it back to your lips.


I see you sip from a coffee cup at a football game,
but oh don’t you wish it was coffee,
but instead coffee brandy burns your throat
as you try to forget all the bad things he did to you.


I see you.


I see you wince at the final sip, not only because
you took too much to swallow, but because
the pain made you realize what you have
let him turn you into.


This is for the class clowns.
The boy that tries so hard to make other
people laugh because he
can’t remember the last time
he actually smiled, and if he
can make other people happy for just a second,
one day maybe he’ll be happy too.


I see you.


I see you after landing the punchline,
analyzing the classroom,
and when the roar of laughter fades
so doe’s smile that never quite reached
your eyes.


This is for the the invisible.
The “unmemorable” face in the crowd.
The people in public with their face in a book,


I see you.


I see you watch quietly in the background.
Listening to everything around you,
never brave enough to speak up.


I see you.


This is for all of the people that at one point
in their life thought no one was watching.
That no one ever cared enough to see you.


I see you.

You're like smoke.
You take my breath away
You numb the ache
But i can't hold you
I don't want to let you go
But I'm not holding on
If you'd rather be gone
Like smoke on a midnight breeze
Darling, won't you stay?

I consider myself fortunate, that I discovered absurdism at eighteen. It seems to me, one of those things, discovered in old age when you wish then, you could go back and do all differently. I don't have that, I am free to live the absurd life, maybe I will feel I should have lived otherwise, when I am old. But absurdism makes sense, for right now. I've tried religion, I was scapegoating, putting my problems onto a deity rather than taking responsibility. I suppose, I must live. And we will see.