I do not need alcohol to have
fun.
I do not need cigarettes to be
cool.
I do not need dope to be
creative.
I need to feel you in my
veins.
I need to breathe you in with every
heartbeat.
And even if you’re just a high,
I want to never come
down.
I do need you.

What came first? The flies or the act of flying? This is going nowhere.

You had teased me about eventually writing about this moment. This moment and every other moment. Cigarette in hand, pink blushing my cheeks “yeah right”. I could never grow tired of this. Feeling so incredibly close to somebody that you know there will never be room for regret. We are not two, we are one and I’m pretty certain I’ve loved you since you were born. Probably longer than that. The sun looked over her shoulder to say hello to us that day. Watched you run around the cement staircase and discuss your orbit around me.

What came first? Forgiveness or sin? This is going nowhere.

I think of you farthest from the boundaries of this existence. Like maybe you’ve always been a day dream. A lost thought. An open-ended question. You in your crinkled smiles and loud poetry hiding behind punk rock. You in your black coffee and sarcastic comments about my own soft words. You in your never-ending paradox. I don’t think we’ve ever apologized to each other. What is there to apologize for? I’m sorry for finally finding you? I’m sorry for becoming the person you would eventually love more than life itself?

What came first? The lovers or the love?

It's okay if this is going nowhere, so long as i end up there with you.

The first kiss is always the hardest
It burns and hurts like a heat wave,
But then gets normal and it’s not always the smartest
Because eventually the sweet kisses start to cave
Into something of an addiction,
And we use the excuse of stress
Just to feel the sweet kiss and caress.

He smoke cigarettes,
not to make it look cool,
but to fade the pleasure of sins.
Sins that were made in heaven..
Heaven that belonged to a girl..
A girl with buttery skin and crystal eyes..
Eyes that never speak for lies..
Lies about love, lies about deceit..
But deceit is what he repeatedly received.
To let it go,
to make the effort not letting the past steal his present,
the past that he wants to forget,
and forget how her voice sounded,
to learn the lesson in a bitter way.
He smokes cigarettes.

Fireworks break up the sky
like shattered mirrors

I'm always chasing mirrors
deep into the sea floor and far above,
they evade me

You would, too

But suddenly I'm the most approachable person in the world

a cigarette parts my lips
but doesn't part me from this cruelly inescapable world

foiled again, I give a bystander bumming a cigarette this token of acquaintance

I hope he manages to escape


Fireworks break up the sky
but they're supposed to unify
They deepen my loneliness always

enjoyed in groups,
people multiply

And I drown into the sea,
in the sand,
in the reflections of my mirrors

A glow bracelet shackles me to reality
My plan to escape shatters again
I have mirrors
But bystanders have mallets


Fireworks don't break up the sky
they fly
in puffs

and in the puff of a cigarette
I am gone again

voices of glee
remind me I am lonely

I'm crying but not for loneliness
for I am never truly lonely

I am surrounded by mirrors always

I cry because I cry,
I don't always know why

I chase these mirrors
but I never see reflections
or answers

Is it glory?
beauty?
appreciation?

I cry because it's momentous
a girl loves a moment in time,
anytime

Mirrors trail down my face

Fireworks break up time and space

I cease to exist
but I feel whole

as if my existence is exactly this
reflections, fireworks, and a wish

Whenever I buy cigarettes, my neighbor steals them.
I really hate thieves and a part of me wants to **** him.
He sneaks in my house when he catches my back turned.
I threatened to call the cops but he didn't seem concerned.
He doesn't just steal some of my cigarettes, he steals every pack.
He spits in my face when I go to his house to demand them back.
I've asked him time after time to stop but he won't
But the laugh is on him, he has lung cancer and I don't.

I think about smoking sometimes
on dreary days
on quiet nights
when I'm cold
or lonely
or sad
and I just want to inhale the numb
and exhale the ache

but aren't I just inhaling the poison
and exhaling it too?
I take it into myself
and breathe it out into the world

I think about rainy nights sometimes
dark, with the taste of a storm in the air
faded music playing in the background
door half-open
me, leaning over the balcony railing
with death perched between my lips

I think about smoke
spewing from my mouth
carrying all misery away
burning through the walls I can't tear down

I imagine cigarettes
come with leather jackets
sly smiles painted red
and sharp eyes lined black
with a devilish spark in them

They pair so nicely with
the blackest of nights
with bonfires and quiet laughter
and with silent solitude

But then I remember
crooked smiles with yellowed teeth
lungs, withered and black
coughing, gasping for clean air
because they're so infected with smoke

Eyes wide shut -
I cannot sleep. You distract me.

Seeing you lay there
at the window
breathing out smoke
eyeing me as I tie my shoes.

I lose myself in the deep green
which moves with every step I take.
We say nothing. A disappointed smile
says it all.

Frustrated, I see the red, waiting for it to
become orange, then green;
wanting it to be the earlier green -
a longing for your smooth touch,
for the taste of cigarettes from your lips.

- I open my eyes and see nothing but black.
Alone I lay, on an empty bed.