reflecting upon a cigarette
I discovered a small fact
the middle burns stronger
any ash comes from the edge
the same is true of people
we age,
wrinkle,
decay,
rot,
die,
but  we still burn incredibly bright
from our centers
don't let the fire
ever die

you are welcome to leave marks,
splashes, ink stains, scratches.
make some rough drafts,
until you reach your masterpiece.
my body is your canvas, my dear.
be creative. use blue,
use grey, use purple, use some
yellow for effect.
if you dare, use red.
i won’t complain,
i await your paint brushes,
your pencils,
your chalk.

I grew up in a village
Americans always seem to laugh
at the very idea of a village
how quaint?
but I did
it was five or ten years behind the times
and in the pub,
the huntsman,
the local
there is an old Marlboro
cigarette vending machine
with lights and menthols
and 27's and reds
and milds and ultra milds
and all the others
I'm too drunk to remember
I miss those machines
bells rung of a simpler time
I miss those machines

I met this girl
This girl is sweet
An kind
And just
Like
Me
I never new
I needed
Her
Until I had
Her
Now I know
I can't live without
Her

I've really wanted to
Cut
At least a dozen times today
But then I remember the reasons why I shouldn't and
Everything seems to be okay.