A pack of wolves is
Sometimes preferable
To a pack of cigarettes
Makes for a coup de grâce
A merciful death
And I’m fresh out of wolves

He told me to stop.
To stop smoking cigarettes.  
He said if I did not, he would leave.
I'm trying!
It takes me a few days, but I did it. I broke my addiction.
I walked to your house to tell you.
I see you with another girl, her lips pressed to yours.
I walked home, the only thing pressed to my lips,
was
a
c i g a r e t t e

Menthol Madness creeps into my head.  
Tattooed Touch fills my mind.

I am not ready for this day to end. I never am - a lover of the night, I blur the lines between sunrise and sunset frequently. I lie on my back and think of skin, smoke, sense. My senses feel deprived. I need stimulation, stimulants....something. No one is awake. I am restless, unable to sleep.

What keeps me awake all of these nights? What occupies my mind during these hours? What keeps me up at night?

I sat on my footstool,
In my grandma's front room,
Staring at the warm madeira crumbs
On my blue white plate.

I climbed onto my granddad's chair
As familiar to my eight years
As the flakes of his St. Bruno.
And I was found there,
Next to the smiling promise
Of his dark desk,
Waiting for his return.

The sun so bright outside
Slamming my eyes off that white new pavement.
So dark inside
So dark inside
My skin it hurts,
From wear and tear
From other humans I shared this pen with
I'm so tired
I'm so tired
My lungs they hurt from so much tobacco,
And my mouth feels sore from all the talking.
It burns so good
It burns so good
My brain, fried, from all the thinking
It twirls and spins,
With my eyes still blinking,
And cigarette stinking.
So this was the way it was meant to be?
I am so free.