The sun falling down
Fire raging through the town
Nothing left but ash

Bathing green with red
Leaving nothing except ash
Blackening slowly

What was once pretty
Covered with smoldering flames
As the flames flicker

Poetry from this morning, another Haiku
Guden 1d

As I light up this last blonde cigarette,
Or maybe the first one in a long time,
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.

When when you not be at your vilest best
When will the veil come off
When will the fire get snuffed
When will there be light the other side
The craving, the inhale, the rush…
One more stick turning to ashes..
Without any flame
In the dark…
Getting darker yet
The moon afar dwindling
The soul within in deep slumber
The souls around jubilant.

the cold wind
whispers through
the autumn night sky
“its getting colder”
i say as i shiver a little

“I was just thinking
the same thing”
you say as we walk
towards your car

loud music blaring through
the speakers once again as
the bass vibrates through my
body although this time was
different you had turned it down

i took a hit of my electronic cigarette
you instantly knew what flavor it was

“crème?”
you said with a smirk
i felt a blush creep
upon my cheeks

“yeah”
i replied and took another hit
letting the smoke enter my lungs

“can i hit it?”
i nodded and handed it to you

watching you take a hit
was mesmerizing
the way you inhaled
a perfect cloud of
white smoke into your
lungs then ever so
slowly exhaling
gave me shivers
down my spine

our night drives had turned
into something more
slowly but surely

we talked about other things
just simply getting to know
each other

i look forward to our
small talk conversations
every time you take me
home

he took me home last night, took a hit of my juul, and I have gave him a juul pod :)
frankie 3d

strike your match against my skin
stab your knife inside my head
fill my lungs with smoke from your nicotine kisses
grasp your fingers around my neck

bind my hands togethe with the rope of your lies
pick every petal from my stem

please keep hurting me
it shows me you’re still there.

and then god said let there be light
taking out his cigarette and inhaling

Glass 5d

caligine epitaph of putrefaction
the assiduous modesty to lucky clovers
is exemplary doubt and sometimes I can't
fanthom/jurisdiction outcomes
for you are anxiety sipping on a pumkin spice
latte perhaps "neil gaiman's novel smoke and mirrors
reminds me of grandiose philology" but
there are goodbyes and hello's
and charcoal eyes imbibed onto memorium
afternoons, because it's a release you'll never see on
screen (marc jacobs fall beauty trends
exponentially metapolitics) while
I am held with silence then goosebumps


- G

I always find beauty in things that are odd and imperfect - they are much more interesting - Marc Jacob

your lips taste like sin
alcohol breath and
cigarette smoke mixed
with a hint of mint
baby, i’m addicted to you

his lips taste delicious
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