a king
spends
a month’s worth
of rent
in four days
to get high
and drunk,
and then
even more
drunk
and a tiny bit
more high
to fit in
yet another
drink
until he’s
just fine.

imagine-
you became poor,
but were a king;

tired boots
collecting
dust,
and coins,
cigarette buds,
on your way.

My past is too much of an influence on my present,
I know it's a problem.
But whenever I look in the bathroom mirror,
I see my 15 year old self,
A cigarette hanging out of her mouth
Just like the one that is currently in my mouth.  
Her hair is still dyed dark purple and out of control,
Spiking out of her head
Like she just stuck her finger in a light socket.  
She takes the cigarette out of her mouth
And smoke clouds up the mirror.  
I watch her hand reach up through the smoke
Into the real world and take my cigarette
Out of my mouth and toss it in the trash.  
I can't decide whether I've gone completely crazy
Or if that encounter was the
Best thing that ever happened to me.  
Why can't it be both?

Spun dizzy till she fell

Love or *****?

Fumbling for words to tell
What brings you to say my name
 after the sun sets?

Love or *****?

Burning down your neck 

Chased with a cigarette.

Sober or drunk

My name brings cold sweat.


Good luck

You’ll never forget

Oh, how I wish to replace the white filter,

Pressed, firmly, between your lips,

As your gentle hands craft the last cigarette of the day.


To be stained by the dark shade of your cheap lipstick,

If I am lucky, you will hold me too tight,

For just a moment too long.

The moisture will crack your skin with indignant purpose,

So I can steal a drop of your crimson blood,

To taint my snowy white complexion.


Though it will only be a moment,

Before you cast me aside,

I will remain sane,

In the knowledge that,

For one brief second,

As you dragged the nicotine deep into your lungs,



That fleeting instant of ecstasy,

Belonged to me.

blowing smoke out of
my window
and talking
to the cats
that roam around
my backyard
all night;

I want to quit
smoking
and I hate
******* cats,
but

this moment

is a tiny piece
of heaven-
stationary,

as the absurd
spins,
and keeps
spinning.

I’m sitting on the walkway, smoking a cigarette, watching the stars; thinking of you. I’m reminiscent of when we laid out here doing the same exact thing, except a prolonged addition of past drunken ramblings that resonate with me now. I miss your voice, and the way your laugh sounded beside me. I miss knowing I could turn to you in the same room. I guess I just miss you tonight. I’ll keep this with myself, but I want myself to remember that I missed you yesterday, I miss you now, and I’ll miss you tomorrow.

nothing like
cigarettes
and skin care
in the morning