Mountains is the dead skin
Upon a once red surface
Come on in
To the cigarette lips

Gravel is the breath
Sometimes shaky
Come on in
To the cigarette lips


Murky is the soul
Once you touch them
Come one in
To the cigarette lips

And join us in infinity

from your hand,
to your lips,
i asked you to bite up
and light the cigarette

your breath,
when you start to ****,
is an ****** scene in my head
that was your first cigarette

your cough,
but a second more you laugh,
ask me to keep firing the thing
you keep smoke, but i know you hate it

the part of last night,
you hope you don't smoke again after that night
i said, yes, you don't have to smoke after this
you said, yes, you don't have to smoke after this

that night was an impulsive night for me,
i barely breath because i hate cigarette,
it killed my father,
but that night, you tried to **** yourself

that night was beautiful for me,
your lips taste bitter, but it's kinda unique for me,
and again you said to me,
that was the Last Cigarette you smoke.


×

i miss people i've never met
their imaginary faces stick to my eyes
relationships i could have if i was there
at some point
stuck watching them unfold without me on the t.v.
i miss people i've seen on screens
no flesh and no bones
only heartless machines

i miss places my soles didn't even scrape
taking busses people suffer through every morning
daily routines i'll never have and apartments i can't afford anyway
i miss being in coordinates
kissing the skies on buildings
taller than they come here
geotagging myself where i see myself
not on my bed
tilting nights colliding with my head

I don't smoke because the nicotine numbs me
I don't smoke because my tongue craves that bitter flavor
I don't smoke because my blood longs for it

I smoke so that I can see my life turn to ashes
And go up in flames
I smoke because I die with the cigarette everytime

And when I light another, I am reborn
A Phoenix rising from the ashes
Only to die again

Slow dance with me
at 3 a.m
to the sound of rock and roll,
keep up with me if you can.

The notes of your guitar,
the way you play your song,
your hand between my thighs
makes my flower grow.

Messy black hair,
cigarette smell,
sweet ***** lips,
enchanting me under a spell.

****** friends,
he sits and stares.
Burning smoke through my throat,
he doesn’t even care.

Motionless wrapped in your arms
Is this another way of suicide?
He’s making me drool all over the place,
fast calloused fingers through the strings with grace.

Sitting on his lap,
I can hear his heart.
He could soften mine,
fill that missing part.

Black and blue,
I don’t want to know
who you’re playing songs for
late at night tomorrow.

Cause I’m only for fridays,
I’m only for fun
but it hurts so good,
I adore when he’s bad.

Inhaling cigarette smoke is like inhaling the sun entirely
It is like solar flares are shooting down your throat into to your heavy chest
But it is worth the pain that it gives when you quickly exhale the curling smoke into the streetlamp lit night as your fingers tremble and you breathe in crystal clear air
It is a sense of comfort
It is like love
Because love can burn your being and consume your flesh and your eyes
But love can calm your soul and revive your sore lungs
from that time you sobbed because of when he...
When she...
When they...
When life...
Love is like cigarette smoke
It can float and wisp around you and bring you peace
but it can suffocate you until you can no longer breathe.

As I light up
This last blonde cigarette,
I think of music,
Of boats sailing through smoke,
Smog.
Stars that fall in the ocean,
Cosmonauts drifting through space,
Their ship destroyed
Like a mother who has given birth.
Memories of photographs.
I think of her
As usual.