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Lucanna  Oct 2012
Fuck.
Lucanna Oct 2012
I've drank a thousand beers
I've smoked a million cigarrettes
I've ate at least a hundred Twix bars
I've watched Breakfast at Tiffany's hours on end
I've flirted with every male waiter that brings me
unfulfilling dish after unfulfilling dish
I've bought weekly **** dark outfits
and I've spent my life savings
on beautiful MAC make-up and a new Legacy
and pumps I think you'd like
I've gotten my hair colored every color I can think of
I've tried being an apathetic punk, an upbeat cowgirl,  
a wide-eyed polyanna, a harsh madonna, a ****-you-feline,
an emotionally charged marilyn, and a classy Diane
I've memorized witty jokes, and roasts, and rivetting last lines
I've modeled and sang and became an athlete
I've played hard to get, I've played easy and teasy
And I've twirled my hair and crossed my legs
and learned to walk while swaying my hips
I've ran miles and kilometers and meters and
I've lifted weights and done zumba and yoga and hiked and biked and

****.

There's no comfort                                  and no          getting    to                                        ­                    you.
Natalka  Sep 2013
Cigarrettes
Natalka Sep 2013
You strike your lighter
the air warms
you draw the flame near
the heat lights
and you take a long drag

Inhaling in my pleasures
you occupy yourself
studying all I have
then bring your lips back to me
inhaling me once more

With every breath
you brighten the spark
it burns for a moment
but not long enough for the night

When I am just a bud
all the pleasure gone
you hold me for a moment
then discard me to the ground

I wait for the next night
when your addiction rages
and your hands ache to touch me
and your mouth aches for my taste

You are as addicted to me,
as I am to you.
This poem I wrote last year, it's actually about love, and had nothing to do with cigarrettes. My boyfriend at the time use to smoke, so I guess it just made me think about about addiction, and I don't know...
Cheyenne Jul 2013
oh cigarrette i love you so
out of my mouth the smoke i blow
i love when you get that red glow
instead of shrinking i wish you would grow
mike Jun 2013
.                        .i will die
                    .i will die today
                .i will die tomorrow
      .i will die every day after that for the rest of my *******.....
Annie Oct 2014
Cigarettes are nothing
but poison
the way you need them,
actually need them
when you get to that point
your ******
Flicking your finger makes you
just want one more
When Im anxious for one
the feeling
is horrible
inhaling all the toxins
feels so beautiful
and
When I cry,
I just want to hold one
in between my fingers
I hate needing them
Ive never needed something
so much right now
and I cant even have one
Makes me want to go mental.
adshimabuko Jun 2014
I learned that we rush to grow up
since the day we turn fifteen

that our childhood dream
of being invisible
has turned into a terrible nightmare

that we hope to read our future
in the smoke of cigarrettes
and that we look for answers
at the bottom of the bottles

that flying means more than
throwing yourself from the roof
and floating beyond the sky

that if we stop sleeping
we would mix reality
and dreams
and sometimes that's all we need

That maybe the cure of cancer lives
inside the mind of a child
who can't afford education

that no one would behave as society demands
if we had nothing to lose

that hearts only break once for real
and that liars were once
the purest

that cold and heartless people
don't really exist

that we all have scars
maybe not in our wrists
but in our hearts and souls
or in the little universes that we create
and crumbled down

that we all had an imaginary friend
to keep us from being alone
when mom and dad used to fight

that the best poetry cones from chaos and pain
and that we use art to release our anger
because it's just art
and it doesn't worry anyone

that if each of us were a little bit kinder
less people would wish to disappear
and the world would be a better place

I understood that the books are a lot like mirrors
that we only see in them
what we already carry inside of us

that if we would send less texts
we'd know when a friend feels lonely
that we rather take pictures of the moment
than livig it with the person sitting next to us

That there are no potions to forget the pain
nor chocolates that makes us feel better

that we are all a little crazy
and we are okay with that
that happiness depends on us
and how bad we look for it

but this is just what I learned
and I don't know...
what did you ?
poem wrote for adecopa contest
Mara Kennet Sep 2013
I wanna smoke a cigarrette with Obama

We’ll lower the sound on Futurama

He will hand me a pack of Marlboro or Newport

He will puff I will puff

Life will be like a resort

We will talk about politics and in vain

Puff again puff again puff again puff again

We would smoke and we would quit

He will swear again

For six years ”no cigarrettes lit”

I will quit smoking too

We will play peekaboo

And turn the volume back up on Futurama

I will boast to my friends

I quit smoking again with Obama
David  Jul 2015
Untitled
David Jul 2015
'be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harsh battle'

David Wakeman, 20, thin, pale and dark haired. He has no particular style and doesn't look like he could really fit in with any group of people in particular, but at the same time, wouldn't look too suspicious with among a group. A constant look of desperation plagues his eyes. He looks as though his face would appear in the news in a few months for shooting up a school or blowing up a public building.

david is shown driving down a stretch of road, snow covered everywhere, crazy eyed

Some people are meant to be alone in this life, and I am one of those people. I no longer wish to pretend otherwise. I now know what has to be done.

The sounds of ******* haunt the hallways outside of the tacky, run down hostel where they both lay. She is lying on the edge of the bed.
The sheets are creased. There are cracks on the wall.
But for 3 euros a night, you can't complain.
She lies there, still; staring blankly at the ceiling. Her short robotic breaths are the only life seen.
He eagerly moves close to her, but for the life of him, cannot touch her. His unsure attempts at moving his arm over her are prevented by a sudden urge to break into tears.
Finally, his hand places itself over hers.
She is cold.
"Did anything change?" he says, afraid of the answer.
There is a pause. It might've been a few seconds or half an hour.
"No." Speaking so quietly, barely audible to him.
He is about to say something, but he catches the micro-expression that followed her reply.
A sigh.
He becomes impatient,
"Then kiss me." he blurts out, clumsily.
It sounded better in his head.
A deep exhale and an almost exaggerated look of contempt washes over her tired face. She puts her hand to her face, failing to cover up her outburst of honesty, pretending to clean out something from her spotless, green eyes.
She quickly moves her face closer to his, with her eyes closed, and she puckers her lips in such a way that suggests she'd rather be dead.
His eyes are open, and now he is the one who is lifeless.
"What?" She says, breaking the awkward seconds of silence.

Silent seconds are followed by silent minutes, and now they are sitting up on the head of the bed, watching the old, fat TV that hangs from the filthy wall. Something is  playing but he can't understand the language.
'Pedifilios' is the only word that seems familiar.
She is smoking another cigarette.
The faint sounds of her mouth blowing out the smoke, are telling him all he needs to know.
She loves her ******* cigarettes, he thinks to himself.
She grabs the worn out ashtray that sits on the side of the bed, and goes to put it out.
"Here, let me get that" he says, gentlemenly, and snatches her  it out of her hand, then puts it out into the back of his other hand.
The pain doesn't make him feel any more alive.
" There you go," the cigarrettes crumbles into ashes over his hand and he pushes the ashes into the ash tray, then looks at her.
Her expression is a weird mix of diisgust and fear.

Minutes turn back into seconds and the sound of her footsteps are the last thing he hears from her, just before the slamming of the door.

Chapter 2:

Two bloodshot eyes scan the aisles and shelves, looking for the gluten free bread. It wasn't in the bread aisle.
Who the hell buys gluten free bread?
He contemplates appraoching one of his coworkers and asking her if she knows, but she is far too pretty for him to talk to.
Besides, he's been here 4 weeks now and wants to make it seem like he actually has a clue about what he's doing.
Afterall, he had already convinced his then potential manager,Chris,  that being a 'personal shopper' was in fact his dream job, and that this very supermarket was his dream place to work.
He always was a good liar.
He's so good because for a little while he manages to convince himself.
'Working hard David?"
****.
with Chris you could never tell if he was ******* or beingplayful.
"Always!" David shouts back, then picking a random item off the shelf and placing it into the basket, then nodding at Chris with a look of false sincerity.

(David is shown sitting in the living room, the light emenating from the TV appears to hurt his eyes, and he is slumped back on the coach, clearly worn out. he is flicking through late night informercials, on the coffee table in front of him there are numerous energy drinks seen empty.)
Davids thoughts: The living room is where I come to when I cant sleep. It's more of a dying room, really.

(David continues to flick through channels before stopping for a second on a ****** phone-in show (like babestation). He flicks back through the channels again)

(The scene cuts to a few hours later, with daylight seeping through the curtains and David sat in essentially the same position except he has fallen asleep, with remote still in hand. It's time for work)

watch alarm rings.....

'You coming out with the lads on friday dave?
He always wondered why people tried to talk to him in the middle of the set.
He places the barbel down onto the rack.
'With who?'' He asks,
"Me, sam, jack, carl and"
"and?"
"and Bill. Yeah. bill"
David's face changes as if suddenly remembering something
"Oh, did you say friday? I cant make it. I'm doing a thing with..."
With?
"with the family"
His friend looks as if he was expecting this anwer,
"no worries lad."

"qeue sad music"
David sits in his room, and is looking for something.
Upon rummaging through his things he pulls out a drawing, it's of a girl, he looks at it and a short shot of the girl from the beginning of the movie is shown, then it cuts back to him, stressed looking, and he shove the drawing into a red travel case that sits under the bed, as though he can't stand to see it but at the same time doesn't want to get rid of it. The case still has its travel ticket on.
He pulls a notebook from under some wires in his drawer, and begins to write.

'poem read accompanied by scenes of davids life'
'poem is interrupted by a knock on the door.

-dave is approached by someone in the gym telling him he has a great body, and that people would pay to see it. looks into 'gay4pay' and ends up actually going on a site and doing a cam show before aborting the whole thing-

scene with mum sat with the missionairies 'mum we need to talk' mum seems uncaring and cold, later on they talk
'Whats the probem dave? do you need money'
'No mum, it's just that'
'if youre struggling for cash just tell me, you can always take out a loan and-'
'No. mum. its not about money'
'then what is it?'
As David began to speak, his vocal chords failed him. He was walking into a 20 year old wall that he just couldnt get over.
'It's just that..'
'Yes?'
'I'm not happy. Mum.'
'Oh, well we all feel that way sometimes son' brushing it off in her famous way.
'No, this is different. I'm really depressed. Well, it's'
Depression wasn't the right word, he thought. Depression was an overused and futile term, it had become synonymous with sadness, and this wasn't just sadness; he had felt sadness many times, and this certainly wasnt that.
'it's?' she says, interrupting his inner verbiage.
He looks at her, knowing full well that this entire conversation has meant nothing.
'Look Dave,' she starts again with her 'mother' act, 'if you think that youre responsible for the divorce, just know that it was always going to happen anyway. It was just a matter of oppurtunity.'
What the **** is she talking about?
'Your dad and I never really had a-'
'No,' he says, cutting her off before she has a chance to justify the divorce again.
He was sick of the endless reasons and justifications.
'It's not about that.'
'well, what else could it be about?'
Because the whole world revolves around her and her divorce.
'Nevermind, it's nothing, really.'
She smiles, happy she doesn't have to act like she cares anymore.
'We all feel like that sometimes, like you say.'

He was starting to think that maybe he needed to see a therapist. Until this point he had always been confident in his own abilkity to reflect, introspect, and deal with his own issues himself, and he had alwas been skeptical of people who st in chairs and tried to prescribe you things; but this was beginning to be too much for him to handle. He felt he needed to be eevalutated, that he was losing his grip of his own life.
scene with therapist, coldly looking at her papers, davids desperate face searches for answers in her countenance.
'Right, Mr. wakeman.'
Hope. There is hope.
'I have you down for a prescription of 50mg of lithium, 250mg of benzedrin every week. I'll see you back here on thursday and we'll discuess your', she stops to see his face totally destroyed
'to discuss your.. issues'
David walks home like the scene of travis walking to see betsy at the theatre, something in his face just says that he knows that this story isnt going to end well. and that terrible things are on the way.

'Drugs, drugs, drugs,' david writes, 'theres a drug for everything in this world. drugs to make you numb, drugs to make you dumb, and ones which make you love everyone and see leprochauns and jellyfish driving cars, though those are the illegal ones.'

'Dave ya sisters here!' says his mum.

Scene where dave meets his sister and has coversation, on her way out,
she pulls out a red napkin and holds it like they do in bull fights, david looks slightly confused and smiles, she says 'dont be the bull!'

scene cuts to dave watching a bull fight on tv, where the bull kills the humans. david laughs to himself as the bull chaes people away. he is eating peanut butter on its own. Daves mum walks in abruptly and he switches it off.

(divorce is mentioned and the fact that dave caused it is mentioned)

dave trries to approach a girl in his work but it i awkward aand he gets rejected the same way he he rejected going out with his friends 'im doing something witht he family'.

dave comes home and there are arguments or something, so he punches a collage of family photos.

scene cuts t dave in hospital being told the cast  will come off in  4 weeks.
scene where david is trying to do everyday things with one hand, accompanied by happy music, contrasting the despair of the scene.

(An exact copy of the earlier scene is shown where david is up late flicking through late night tv channels, except now he is using only one hand with the remote. David finds himself at the eroitc call in show again, but this time instead of changing the station, he notices the number written in big, pink letters, and the woman manning the phone is obviously not in a call. Davids vision darts from the tv to his mobile phone that sits on the coffee table, he doesnt hestitate too grab the phone. The look on his face shows he is somewhat bracing himself. David dials the number unusually fast, without having to look back at the screen. The phone is being connected)

pre recorded phone message: Hey there naughty boys, you've reached TEASEYTALK phone love station, the sauciest ******* line in thebusiness. Press 1 if you'd li-

(David presses a number without hearing the rest of the message, suggesting he has heard the options before. Davids eyes are fixated on the bored-looking woman on the screen, until she picks up the phone that shes been using as a mock-***** till now, and answers)

Woman on TV: Urite babe? How can I  be of service?

(She speaks in a strong mancunian accent, and provocatively looks into the camera and moves sensually. All the while David looks back, with an expression of almost disgust.)

Woman: Dont be shy love!

David: Sorry. I'm not really a people person

Woman: haha thats alright darling, feel free to just watch me if ya like

(she turns to her side, showing the front of her body to the camera, she rubs her hand over the thin lingerie covering her *****)

David: Do you not feel a bit weird knowing guys are waatching you like this.

Woman: it just turns me on more babycakes

(she maintains her playful act but appears just slightly agitated)

David: I think you're lying.

(again, she starts to rub her hand over her **** and tries to look playful, but is now clearly agitated)

David: I don't think you like this at all.I don't think you wanted this for yourself.

(she snaps quickly and becomes more aggressive in her act, trying to hide her obvious agitation)

woman: I ****** love it babe. If you could feel how wet i was right now I could prove it to ya

Men: do you have a boyfriend?

(she pauses for a second, shocked and unable to hide her uncomfortable feeling. She stalls and grabs a purple heart shaped pillow and changes position. She assumes another playful position but looks bothered in her eyes)

David: how does he feel about this?

(her movements now hault and she looks at the camera with a sad glare(

David: does he even know?

(she bows her head for a moment, before running her hand through her hair, and looking back at the camera with that playful smile again)

woman: do you have a girlfriend?

(she says smugly, making it appear as if she has said some provacative)

camera pans into davids face, his look of slight disgust has eased into one of sad reflection. for a split second, a scene of the girl from the beginning of the movie appears, the scene is light, contrasting the darkness of the room, then the shot of david continues

(davids long silence has create an awkward look from the woman on the TV, she has stopped the provacative movements and briefly gestures to someone off camera. the scene cuts back to david with the phone put down, then it cuts to a shot from the same angle, except its obviously daytime as the light is seeping trhough the curtains and davids watch alarm is ringing again, however unlike before he is wide awake)

Scene where david takes off shirt in the bathroom, revealing his arms, chest, etc, covered in cut marks like tiny cat scratches.

dave gets skinner throughout the movie, the gay4pay scene stops him from working out. contrast scene with self harm marks with the earlier scene he is more athletic and healthier  looking. pants fall off

this s were dave develops the bad thoughts about killing people and ridding the world of bad people. ' i always wanted to make the world a better place'

throughout the movie dave asks his mum if any package has come for him, and that he expects a package.

the underlying theme is waiting for things to come and being patient, and that you dont know whats around the corner. that you know life will  be better but you grow impatient, and its only when you forget about wanting things to change, that it does.

in the movie he either does **** people or he has fantasies about doing it but something stops him (a girl?)

before doing whhatever he feels he needs to, he has a ritualistic session of burning the contents of the travel case, including the travel ticket, a postcard from porto, some drawings, and a carboard cutout of a leopard.) he gives the travel case to a charity shop, a long with all the clothes he has worn in the story up to this final scene, where he is weaing guirella warfare type attire. he puts facepaint on(?) and dumps all his anti depressants

at the end of the movie, when he has forgotten about the package, i arrives, and he opens it, not showing its contents, the camera zooms into the words 'handle with care'
OR
he has done his deed and killed whoever (*******) and now his package has come and it says 'handle with care'. it either sits at the front door or is thrown into some postal van, the irony being i tis not handled with care.
Alexis Martin Nov 2012
Will you ever love me
the way you love
your perfume
your cigarrettes
your diamonds.
We both know the answer
to that question
now don't we,
Mother.
  -
Kyle Fisher Oct 2015
Tiny whispers,
soft and subtle.
Bed frames,
a warming cuddle.
Soul pieces,
nose kisses,
cold feet,
one love puddle.

Confrontation,
elaboration,
dark secrets,
silent bracing.
Morning breath,
coffee grounds,
cigarrettes,
and carnal chasing.

Television,
Apple tarts,
Soft eyes,
and blunt smoke.
Crazy nights,
and tired days,
that is what I miss the most..
©Kyle Fisher
Al M Rakun  Feb 2012
HEAVY
Al M Rakun Feb 2012
My insides have the best of me, the empty can be so heavy.
The beginning starts and leads, from and to nothing.
Anchors on my chest, and I can't feel my heart.
Nothing is around me, yet nothing is where it starts.

Vision alone won't make me see, what's lying in front of me.
Thoughts alone won't help me believe, what could and should come to be.
I burn questions in my head, like cigarrettes on my hand.
What is it that I fear? Middle of the ocean with no signs of land.

Pull me through the clouds, I wanna see how rain is made.
Then drop me back to earth, I wanna feel this endless rain.
But that isn't what I feel, retreat back to nothing.
When my pride is hurt and I feel that certain something.

I hate the way I am, leave before you're left.
Read the first page, then never read the rest.
Over think your thoughts, ignore any feelings.
Avoid pain at all costs, no such thing as healing.

All the drugs in the world couldn't **** who I am.
And nothing could stop my pretending to not give a ****.
I'll admit my fears rule me, they have me by the throat.
But one day i'll snare them, send the pain below.

I don't keep faith in the idea, now or never.
But times my worst enemy, I know the sooner the better.
The wind waves the oceans, and nothing makes the winds.
So without question we all feel nothing, and nothing is my friend.

This is where it begins and that is where it ends.
This is where it comes and that is where it sends.
It's true I can be heartless, when I can't find my heart.
It's hard to constantly travel, when it wanders off so far.
And I can be so selfish, when I don't know my self.
But change never changes, so this me can go to hell.

We all die more than once in a lifetime.
Blow away my image, it's in the palm of your hands.
Must there be an ending to this timeline?
Wolves will be vicious, when defending their lands.

I build walls of steel, when I begin to feel vulnerable.
So I can be independent, it's anything but honorable.
"It's better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all."
Life doesn't run by a coin toss, can't just sit back and watch it fall.

It's ironic how silence, on the contrary, is the loudest thing in the world.
And how a tough facade, can shield such a weak, and tired insecure little girl.
Kyle Fisher Sep 2015
Black and gray *** leaf tube socks
are stretched up to his kneecaps.
They cover the rugged
saw-like shin bones that nustle themselves underneath a layer of soft, pale skin.

Beige khaki shorts, tethered and worn.
A rip in the left pocket, a hole in the back;
Cigarrettes and a *****, empty, leather wallet reside in the other two.

A hint of a minty, floral perfume, emanating from the cotton fibers of his tattered, black, t-shirt, remind him of the long, arduous night that had past.

Clouded and confused, liqour infested, and hardly satisfied. He stumbles through the morning dew covered grass, etching a new path home.

He feels no regret, no remorse. Only an uninhabited, nugatory self.
©Kyle Fisher

— The End —