It’s kind of funny, how
you and cigarettes are so alike, even
though
you hate smoking and
the smoke doesn’t like you.

I go to both you and cigarettes to keep the demons away,
you both give me company and something to think about,
you both put me at ease and get my mind running
at the same time,
and you are both a poison,
and,
and,
both
addicting, habitually, chemically even.

And lately cigarettes have made me nauseous,
I try to get the buzz and I quit before it’s even halfway
done,
And now you make me nauseous, and
I’m only getting the poison side of things,
So what’s the point?
I suppose I’ll just quit both
of you.

it's suicide
really,
cigarettes.

but the wistful
thin milky smoke
reminds me of peace
that I never feel anymore.

the drag
the heat
and I drag my lungs behind me on a gravel road
but the hit
I take
feels
safe

craving
to wrap my lips
around a death trap
an expensive
killer
beautiful
cigarette

I found my mind in the eye of a cigarette
The thing that I curse and despise, the cigarette
The thing that controls my life, the cigarette
I lost my freedom in the eye of a cigarette

Boy of my dreams,
On the night of my life,
Offers me my first,
"Cigarette?"

You've got
A campfire-made halo.
Such a beautiful smile.

I carry only one around,
So when I see you once more,
I can offer you (not your first)
"Cigarette?"

And use
Your beautiful smile
And hope
You feel like I
Did.

"I quit."

And this cigarette goes,
Back into my pocket,
And I do too.

isn't it silly


that i buy cigarettes

and smoke them
hoping to calm myself

(hoping to
forget about the
****
you put me through)



and realize that
I would rather
get hit


by a moving van

than to inhale

this

nasty

****.


I stomp it out

with
no regrets