The skin on my cheeks sting
With frozen kisses
As the sky sinks into the grave
my throat burns with ice
With each exhale I take of you
No more cigarettes
The pines take me higher
As I melt into the dirt
Breathe
The air, rough with ash
Keeps me moving
End
Nearby
The car slams
Metal on material I feel no good
No more cigarettes
Sniffing electric on brim
Blow it out
Sun blood flow
Fresh mountain eggs grow
I'm alive I think.
Good morning me.
I see you playing with your lungs
Come into me, I think.
M O N  411
I read the whales thoughts
I think,
No more cigarettes.