Putting cigarettes in snowbanks, who would have thought something so pure would cause chest pains

Pen in hand ink hasn't flown yet.
Deep in thoughts, deep in my head.
Smoke rings flow out on a coarse set.  Ironic,It twists into a delicate infinity,
Then slowly fades away.
My mind is now empty,
My thoughts all astray.

Like the ashes on cigarette, I fall.

It left traces of its remnants on your mouth.
The horrible, horrible taste of tobacco,
tasting as they smell.
And yet I still craved the flavor
of the cigarette, as well as your mouth.
Two parlous vices which I wanted to have
until I couldn't breathe.

Like the ashes on cigarette, I burn

The fire would ignite from within me,
fueled by your clout presence
and burn the old, stalwart bridges
of decade-old friendships.
It burns fields of daisies
and carnations that I have tried to bloom.
I am self-destructing in your consent,
you do not seem to mind.

Like the ashes on cigarette,
I am thrown away

Forgotten on a pale ashtray,
a ruined, ugly reminder
You pay no mind to the now apathetic, rolled up paper
as you reach for another stick in your pack,
I had failed to notice that I
was merely the first one you have consumed.

Coffee.
Cigarette.
A little white pill.
(I take it for you)

Someone should water
the basil on the windowsill.

Tomorrow.

i light the match.
consume what is now my best friend.
the simple burn.
gives way to complicated thoughts.
a chemical conversation.
one that always leads nowhere.
yet everywhere at once.
i exhale slowly.
he slowly follows suit.
he seems to be the only one ever present.
he seems to be the only constant.
and i seem to be turning to him more than ever.

Some create life via conception,
                but I create myself
every day with underpriced filter cigars,
                McDonald’s foodstuffs, &
the “healing power” of “These 10 Weird Rocks”

It’s quaint.
how some things throb behind my eyes
                & terrorize me even when
                I have no reason
                to            feel anything

but, that’s human.
                To experience without conceiving,
to know is mythical.  

you  are organizing yourselves as if you’re important
,
I wish.
If i was important, the world would move,
and I would move with
it, out of this
broken leather chair
covered in stains

I stood in the night
Single cigarette sizzling towards the tremble of my fingers

I miss you.

Stars dance in the haze of teared eyes
As the moth flirts in the amber hum of a distant street light.

I focus on its centralised nebula
Its burst of heated shades, its distant sun beams.

Looking down upon the single star in my hand.

This is where I would pass to you, for the final breath.
Yet you are only in the stars.  
Within a sky we have prayed towards so many times.

I love you.
For even without you,
You are forever within me.