Ellekari Larsson is haunting my radio tonight,

My lungs burn once again,
As the smoke enters and leaves my body,
Floating lazilly upward to form a blanket of roiling grey.

I looked at my bookshelf today,
And realized with a start,
That I had a shelf of momentos,
Of those who were long gone.

A folded flag,
A well worn tie,
A photo of a man and boy both laughing,
A teddy bear and a cross made out of a straw,
All snapshots to help me remember.

Times that were better,
Even some that were worst,
But important all the same,
For aren't the most important lessons those that hurt, even if just a little?

A charcoal rubbing of an inscription,
A Tom Clancy novel with a dog-eared page about halfway through,
It hurts to look at these momentos sometimes,
But it feels like a betrayal to look away.

The piano and cello amble slowly along,
Like pall bearers shouldering a weight upon their shoulders,
Both physical and emotional.

A copper disc embossed with hands held together in prayer,
An antique Mr.Goodbar tin,
Containing an ascot and a box of matches.

The song slowly comes to an end and I can finally look away,
Take a drag from the cigarette,
Nearly burnt down to the filter,
As I get lost in my thoughts again.

Objective upon objective,
They stack one upon the other,
Higher and higher indeed,
Until a snag scrubs it entirely away.

A new stratagem was needed,
A long term goal to help better align the rest of your life,
But steps must be taken,
And too soon they always pile up,
And the stratagem must be cast away.

This continues onwards,
Farther and farther,
Leaving The Frontman awash in an ocean of grey.

Inhaling deep,
The crackling of burning tobacco and paper,
The drying sensation in my mouth as smoke is brought in,
A slight stink in the back of my throat as hot ash slightly sears in passing,
A small amount of vertigo as oxygen is deprived from the brain and the endorphins flood in.

Taking a deep breath just after,
Delivering cool oxygen to my lungs.

Wait

Wait

Wait

Exhale,
As another rush of endorphins hits,
Releasing a stream of grey smoke,
Contributing to the haze already collecting near the ceiling.

Flick
Flick,
And ash falls from the end and collects in the faux marble ash tray,
A small mound having already formed.

Elbow on the table,
And watching the stream of smoke lazily drift up in unique patterns,
Each one different as various small winds changes each a little bit each time,
Mesmerizing really.

Take a pause and do it all over again,
Rinse and repeat.

Pardon me friend,
I don't mean to barge in on your time,
But have you seen my muse?

No,
It's not one,
For I once had many,
But now I had none,
Leaving me here rambling like a mad man,
Of things that had come but are now gone.

I offer great advice when I can't see to follow my own,
My muse my muse,
Wherever did you go.

Perhaps you were in my viewpoint of the world and the people in it,
That has changed so often in the times that have come before,
Or mayhaps your in my faith in something higher,
With nothing in my mind but a downward spiral,
Into Oblivion where one can never be refound?

But alas,
Fear not for that,
Dearest reader,
For my muse is found again,
Always popping up in the weirdest places,
To always be found again

It's been too long,
Need to blow proverbial dust off my works,
Inspiration struck like lightning,
Like the sensation of hearing a song from your favorite band that you never heard before,
From when they were younger,
Their faces with so fewer lines.

Faster and faster,
For you never know when this new song is going to end,
Only that in the here and now lies you,
The you that is most present for all the major things,
Here for some of the victories but all of the defeats,
The tides are rising friend,
Do you need to be thrown a rope?

The solo is hitting now,
The song soon reaching it's conclusion,
But it's when that favorite band of yours is younger,
Full of **** and vinegar and ******* attitude,
Crescendo!

Slowing down,
Let it all echo out,
Gotta mellow the tune,
To reach a natural conclusion and peaceful end,
Leaving your enthralled ears graced with the fading of the wave's...

...

...

...

You hit replay.

Look at your pool of friends,
And tell me,
If you were to label your friends with a personality that fit them best,
Which one would you end up labeling "The Fool"?

Now I never said *****,
Do not misconstrue me,
Ma'am or Sir,
For my words are only said with the purest possible intention.

So this individual,
This "Fool",
Would you say they are content with life?
Not just happy,
But utterly content with their station in life?
Want for nothing,
These luck individuals be,
For without such individuals we as a species would have faded away into the final darkness.

The night is still,
A silent cold hangs crisply in the air,
A quilt of noiselessness encases the world,
Looking up upon the stars,
So dazzling in the pre-dawn air.

The moon hangs over the Eastern Horizon,
Just a sliver alit along it's bottom edge.

As the world slowly begins to stir,
Slowly cracking the sky and setting it aflame,
An all encompassing blaze that kisses upon my brow,
Warm and caring,
Loving and tender,
Like that of a mother to a newborn babe.

It is here that one can be at peace,
Where the current troubles slip away like steam from an exhaled breath in this crisp warm air.