Inhale furiously, exhale softly
the burning lust of a cigarette.
Smoking the toxic memories
From the first one you lit up,
to the red-hot one between your fingers.
Addicted to the flaming feelings that simply faded,
from red to grey,
from glowing to ash.
3 minutes of calm
and the never ending space left between them..

it's no wonder
people like you end up in hell

the flames will melt your

cold
cruel
heart

into the tears
of those you've made cry

the ashy smoke
will make your eyes

swell
with
water

just the same

I am made of the ash
that gets left behind
with burned cigarettes
like hollowed pasts.
Platinum silver.
Just like starlight.

This is how we go
how it goes where
it goes, why, though?
Why, though?

Could be any reason.
Smoke all day.
Could be, could be.
**** keeps thought
coming open on it
honest in a beautiful
way. Could be any
reason. Then what of
the stressed breath
exhalation, my others?
What of the imprint
apathy? I alone live in
fear, with so many
fearful near. It must be
most of us but if it's only
some, then where's the
map to you, lonely? Puff
and cough and deliver
words we want in ear at
the close of any day. I
could picture myself dying
every night, go from dance
to stand to sit, to bone from
clay to sand from grasping
in embrace with you.

This is how we go
how it goes where
it goes, why, though?
Why, though?

Could be any reason.
Could be, could be.