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Now we sit
Here to smoke
We pray to have
The strongest ****

Fill our lungs
With THC
and let the High
come over thee

Made in 2012 in collaboration with my roommates at the time. Thanks Kimmy, Luke, Ryan, and Kimmie S.
The 420 at the end is supposed to be the "Amen" to finish the prayer.
J Jan 2021
I may be a smoker
but I still think of the fruit
when I hear cherry
a name Nov 2020
i stood besides the grass
on an empty crossroad
the ants feed on the remnants of an empty can

i know i was quitting
but not immediately
if i did that i'd get mad
i was more myself with a cigarette

the lighter clicks
for my cherry scented stick of white
i'd take two per two days
three if i'm extra pathetic
i meander through my thoughts while i stand
like running through a road without lifting your feet
the little details hurtle around

on how blue the grass is
on how tall the sky grew
compared to the last time i was there
on how organized the ants go about
compared to the giant beside them
the smoke was whiter than the clouds
that covered a pleasant day

i stood like i was waiting
not for anything or anyone
but waiting
maybe for the rain
or a car
or that high i paid for
the loser smoked because his life was garbage
laying on the floor to be feasted by insects
i feel my life was not right
only because i knew it felt wrong
i must have tasted it before to know the difference

was it the times that school ended
was it the weekends between work
or that afternoon with a girl
or the **** we had after
was it the memory of a feeling
who's images were forgotten
but lingers nonetheless
was it from a child, or a lover,
or a drunk chainsmoker
was it even real
or true

the stick was left to its dead inch
the wait was over
and i parted from the ants
wrote it after failing to quit smoking
ari Mar 2020
the putrid smell of cigarette smoke and cheap whiskey breath feels like home.
           His arms felt like home, too.
      I knew him as the boy who’d party all night and make plans with me the next day only to sleep the whole time.
              I knew him as ****** noses from ******* and the young emphysemic cough that would **** a small part of me every time I heard it.
     I knew him as that big, stupid ******* smile.
I knew him as the boy who’d ride his bike to my house but would always be too worn out to ride his bike with me.
          I knew him as far too charming for his own good.
I knew him as perfectly imperfect.
       I know him as cold and unempathetic.
I know him as the boy who refused to get on the phone with me for closure.
     I know him as unstable.
I know him as manipulative.
      I know myself as someone who will never be more important than *******.
I know myself as someone who will never be more important than cigarettes.
     I know myself as just another doll who was tossed to the side by a child who got bored.
     The fetor of a coffin nail and the acidic aroma of Highlands Red still reminds me of him—
                 but only the version of him that I knew.
my experience of falling in love with an addict
Tint Dec 2018
She is a smoker
no matter how people told her
to stop and breathe for life
She still smokes
oh! dear god
help the poor girl
heal her heart

A joint of bad memories
lit with fire from her eyes
she inhales the regrets
and intakes the hatred
she smoked and smoked
until she herself
she became hate
A Darkened Mind Nov 2018
Why do I want you so.
Your bad for me,
That I do know.
Yet I pull you inside,
Feel you within.
I can't give you up.
I always give in.
Steve Page Oct 2018
Standing smoking under the front light looking out into the night on the step of another flat share which for a while I can dare to call home wondering when I will own a place of my own where I can kick up a stink or pile up the sink, where I can strike a light, where I can curse as loud as I like, where I don't have to take myself outside and stand staring at nothing with nothing but my key and the glow of my roll-your-own for company.
On my way home i see men standing outside their no smoking allowed rented digs having a silent ciggy.
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