God I hate when the cigarette ends

I am never prepared for the feeling to end
When I’m out and wasted and the time slips away and everything slips away. I look up at the hands raised moving slowly and slower as it all drags on. We are moving around in a tiny space, all together but not. All alone but not. I find someone to **** with my eyes every once in a while. Im glad we found each other here. Im flattered and grateful and full. I can’t recall the feeling of need in these moments. I can't recall anything. Im staring at my feet- stomping from the dance floor to the front door. The cigarette doesn’t end here. Nothing ends or begins. I see someone I know. Im so glad you are here! I don’t know why I am glad but I am so so glad. Im watching my feet stomp from the front door back in. It's dark at the bar, its dark on the dance floor, it's dark on the sidewalk. Im raising my hands now. Im so glad to be sharing this moment with you all. I cant imagine why I felt so bad before I came here tonight. What could be so bad in the morning?
What could be so bad? god I hate when the club turns the lights on at 2am. I'm stomping my way to the front door. I stomp my way home and up the steps. My living rooms looks different when its spins like this. I *****… i'm starting to remember why I felt the need to get this drunk. I remember "what could be so bad in the morning".
It's morning now. Im on the porch. God I hate when the cigarette ends. I hate when the time drags on, and I remember.

Helicopter water ballet
And Charlie's on the grid

Front and centering feng shui
Choreographed in the fields
Where ****** sticks to kids

War is the fashion
That never wears out

Smell its smoke
Sickly sweet and orange
In the early decay of morning

I roll you in cigarette's paper
and lit the fire
I inhale
and exhale you
deep into my throat
And I blow off you again in the air I take
How it makes my heartburn with love
I think I lose you every single time I do smoking
It hurts me with suffering on my lung
And I always keep loving
Why must I imagine a love like this?
If I knew, I swear I would never try to do this
I am sorry,
I've lost you like my wish

Love is so beautiful
But so temporary
Leaving me grasping for another breath
So still and defined
But so volatile
Dissapering after a moment
Like smoke from my cigarette
Leaving me wanting more

a stranger points to a smoke sign and asks if i smoke; i say no
now that stranger is a friend and my no is a sometimes
and i wonder if it was a warning when he said that smoking was bad.

had i known, i would have answered the anxiety is worse and the cancer can't really **** me when i already feel dead inside.
instead, i waved him off with a laugh that meant "i know. isn't it obvious?"

...

the rot caught up to me two years later, outside the same bar where i'd pestered another friend into putting down a box.
it was a betrayal then, when i brought the sick to my lips and inhaled the poison.
it was a betrayal again when he found out.

i tried to appease the scolding,
argue that i've stopped smoking.
would it be a betrayal now to say
"i still think of rot and decay"?

i've been waking up to desaturation all my life.
i don't know why but i've been
rolling over in the same grey-skinned body,
opening shoddy eyes, heart heavy
as a hangover. i climb into your chevy with
it in my hands. i know this is the fifth time i've lit
a cigarette since i quit, but my lungs needed the ash.
did you know, in a car crash, just one person
not wearing a seatbelt would worsen the casualties?
so if you see the casual ease with which i bare my chest,
know that the carnage of my reckless form,
hail in a storm of steel and violence, at least felt sorry.
the starry dark of a backroad, an explosion of light,
a bright metal supernova and colors even my eyes can't doubt;
we'll all find out exactly how heavy my guilt
is when the body sorrow built ascends through the windshield.

cigarette ashes
fly on the wind,
as i stare at my black coffee,
it gazes back at me.
black sobranie,
and i debate;
of all the people,
i find it hard to see
is there something
worth seeking.
just like dust,
i let them go
i never looked back
let them think i'm bore.
you may be
a world unseen,
yet i am so tired
no words flow well enough.
i'll just go lose myself
in paint and doubt
while i stare at my coffee,
and flit around.

You are pathology incarnate
The sweat on your brow trick of the light
You were the first female
But you are no woman

Just a beast in the shape of a girl
Plucked one year before ripeness
A major at everything
A minor one way

Your eyes betray your true nature
Sharp, louche and depravity reined
Soot-yellow and one dollar green
Some might call it hazel

I call it dirt against your aryan gold hair
If you offered me fruit
I’d force myself to take a bite
So my soul won’t witness my guts feasted in the gutter

Carnivorously carnival-carved cadaver
Stamped under your cigarette-stained heels
Cherry cola chipped out of chapped lips
Cos I didn’t dare take a chockfull

You’re the first girl who has ever touched me
But I’m just the fly on your fruit
Lilith Haefelin
The girl before Eve.

She spoke
with half-smoked cigarettes
and lilting cursive scribbled over last night’s letter’s return address,
her bags packed with only a backless dress.
Nails dripping black and red
blood and paint indistinguishable
in the darkness of the winding alleyways
zigzagging her heart.
She was truly, unendingly lost
in the mazes of her mind
as she traveled backwards with a string
lazily trailing after broken stilettos.
Yesterday’s rain still dripping from empty window sills
and illuminated by lanterns lit with fireflies
found solace in her silent tears
for they were companions,
cut from the same paper-thin cloth.
Maybe a goddess had worn it once,
but those days were long gone
when she lit it aflame with a cigarette
fresh from her lips.
Desire was never a question —
this she had learned from the fire
overtaking her overflowing mind —
and yet it was soundlessly spoken
on empty bottles
not yet broken and swept up by the sea.
Only the blind man could see her now
just as the deaf girl heard her cries
and thus she remained unanswered.
This, however, she did not mind
for being lost was no longer not a choice.