Smoking a pack a day.
Letting you fill my lungs.
Pain releasing.
Exhale the white smoke.
The smell of coughed smoke.
I inhale.
I exhale.
Repeat.

"My dear what's wrong?"
Blink, shake my head,
Back to reality.
"Nothing." I mutter.

"Baby, what's with the frown?"

Slap a smile on,
"Hi how are you? Table for two?"
They go to their table and I'm back on my cloud.
I'm zoning out.

"What are you thinking about?"

I smile at the ground.
How many red bulls would it take to burst my little red ticker?

"Oh," Eyes still on the ground, "I'm just zoning out."

How long can I not eat for until my body hits the ground and I pass out?

"For the deck it's a twenty minute wait."
Smile.

Oh if they only knew what I was thinking about.

How long can I scratch my arm until I can pull out all the bad thoughts from under my skin?

How many cigarets do I need before I suffocate?

"Caroline, seriously what's wrong?"

Smile, "Truly I'm fine."
I look you in the eye until you believe my painted smile.

You don't care, I could slit my throat and yes you would be upset that you didn't help.
Maybe you would have cared more if you were to see new scars.
Maybe you wouldn't say you like me then not texts me back for a whole day,
Maybe you shouldn't stay over anymore,
Maybe you should stop saying you want to figure me out,
I told you I'm a waste of time, you'll never see what lies behind these eyes.
Trust me I have so much to give,
And for you,
You get none.
Until you kiss me
and I'm suddenly hungry.

how many millennials have sat on
east village stoops
wearing thick rimmed glasses
reading intelligent books
and smoking fine cigarets
and asked the question
what is love  
only to regurgitate some
half digested vomitus
about oneness and spirituality

what is love other than a feeling,
the feeling of never wanting to be without
You

Woman with run in her stockings
Man in straw hat
Too many dogs
Homeless woman crosses street three times
Cigarets get smaller
Beers seem to be endless
Doll dropped by child is not recovered
Over dressed
Under social pressure
Man asks me to return his girlfriends tampons
Aggressively decline
7:32 drunk

Our cold bodies warmed at each others touch. We danced in the sadness of the night, under the hot lights. Our souls interlaced. Coated with love, without any space. Your fingers memorized each string of hair on my head. the ***** pavement was our favorite resting place. you smelled of cigarets and mint. the ashtrays littered the vibrant grass. paper thin chances we had to survive. oh our luck was so weak. our hopes were bare.

Yet you saved me from myself, even if you were dying.

Under the stars I feel so insignificant while amongst human I feel so unbelievably lonely. The words only come through in the evening when I overwrite the everyday hardships with a permanent marker and inhale the cold night alone in the twilight. I look trough fake lit windows in my childhood home. The light has never been my friend because it only shows the outer mask and the inner desire. I ***** in the light, blinded by the carcinogenic sunlight and increasing the process with my daily dose of cigarets. The smoke reaches for the stars, I sink to the ground with a curved back. The whole universe feels bigger and I smaller. I get more insignificant by every sigh and every burden thrown upon my shoulders. We all die alone but we must live together as fake friends till the dark do us part.

Who was my mother before
she met my father and learned to scream?

Did she wear her hair long and loose,
the thick sheets of burnt oak wheat curled
habitually between her young piano fingers?
Did she stop singing Sam Cooke when people
came in the room? Did cigarets find their home
between her smiles, were curses running  
like bitter saliva through her teeth?

Most importantly: Did she come home one day
--to Pa folded in his armchair, hands tucked tight
against his sides, whiskey to his right, Ma fixing  
dinner with an eye on her dead sons's picture,
Franny working the late shift down at the tracks,--
and know that every night would be shorter than the next
until she was the ghost walking the bright foreign halls
of married life.

The sound of the buzzer at three in the morning.
Deep sobbing
I wanted to fall to my knees.
Instead I called again and again until you answered me.
Sat on the bathroom floor,
howling.
I told you everything.
I could barely breathe.
Everything was fuzzy & my eyelids felt heavy.
The next day I saw the things he said to me.
I crumpled like a piece of paper.
Sank into my sheets.
A woman made me breakfast that morning.  
I wasn't okay, but I pretended to be.
There are too many to count.
All on my thigh.
My lover will see eventually.
And he will run & hide.
Why do I do these things?
One moment a man's got such a hold on me, the next I'm in another city.
Another mind entirely.
He's playing songs for me.
Kissing me in the only way I know how.
Who knew this one had a name?
"What's your favorite?" He asks me.
He's smoking cigarets & drinking whiskey.
I can feel the bit of red in his beard scratch at me.
"Say goodnight before he finds red on you." I tell myself.
"Say goodnight before he says goodbye."

So you were the lucky one that decided to waltzs into my life and take me by surprise with your honey suckle words and your  big coffee brown eyes.

See before we even get started with even the thoughts of creating a romantic relation ship there are some things you have to know about me first.

I will probably non stop text you because i want to know that you are still there on the other side of your cracked iphone screen.

I will always want to go on adventures outdoors wether it is sunny or raining.

Mostly likely I will steal you away in the middle of the night at 2 a.m to go for a drive while i show you my favorite songs.

I will steal all you t-shirts that you let me borrow and pretend that “I lost them” when really im secretly keeping them in my dresser so I have a little piece of you to comfort me.

I will also demand that whenever we feel like **** we go smoke some cigarets, eat some pancakes and drink ****** coffee at the local dennys.

I will always listen to you when you have to say something but will nod in approval when im not paying attention you.

I will mostly likely fall in love with a tv show character on the show that im currently watching and probably develop strong feelings for said fictional character that will send me into a downward spiral of emotion .

and I will probably love your dog or cat a little more than you.

but you see these are only me on my good days that I cant guarantee will last long.

Sometimes I wont respond to your text messages for days but I want you to know that its not because I mad at you.Its because I'm struggle pulling my self out of bed to reach for my phone on my night stand.

You will probably make some attempt and ask me whats wrong and I will tell you everything is fine im just tired.When in reality I’m waiting for you to look away so I can cry.

You will never see the true me because I’m to ******* scared to let anyone in to see my ugly side.

You will probably tell me encouraging and loving things like

"I love you to the moon and back"

"you are the peanut butter to my jelly"

"you are the mac to my cheese"

"you are the kiss to my hug"

"you are my whole world…"

But I can promise you this one thing,and its that I will be your downfall. I’m not your world I’m merely a star in the vast galaxy that is your being. I’m not the calm before the storm I am the ******* hurricane that will rush into your life and rip you up from your roots just to drop back down on the ground to lie in my wake.

I am just a moment in your life that you will enjoy but soon after its over dissipates like smoke off your menthol cigarettes. I will just become a ghost with a beating heart.

So if your still interested heres my number ———->***-***-xxxx

In a car with people I’ve met just hours ago
traveling the east coast like we know where we’re going
But nobody knows, not really
But who needs a destination

Beautiful asphalt and stripmalls cover our landscape
Two lanes then ten lanes where does it end
All night with no cigarets and no **** to spoil my lungs
Seems that every red light does not want to see us go
but the green light breaks its dreams

When the sun rises we’ll still be driving
But who needs the sun to drive
When we do make it, we’ll be better for it
When we make it we’ll never want to leave the car!

Despite all his missing teeth
And bombed out cavities
He can still eat bags of
Bricks and speak
With perfect diction.
Somedays we crave
Revolution when
He crosses the line
And we the
Comittee dream
Of removing
His authority.
but theres nothing
Left. So we press
And pull our cigarets.
and curse the birds
and talk about
Whatever *****
Our fancy.

Inside our own jokes and theraputical
Humor:
We wait for him (our boss)
While his briches swell more
And more every hour
Till his buttons burst
And his yellow fork
Lifts final suicide attempt
Becomes a sucessful send off
After to many
Years it finnaly
****** out
All the unchanged oil
And passes out in the
Mainconcorse next
To all the pigeon ****
On top of all the knick nacks
Behind customer service.

I'm dying from the cancer that you breathe into my lungs;
Lies and love like cigarets on a tortured tongue.

The dark is not dark enough
to silence these shadows that speak to us when we sleep.
They crawl into our bodies through the corners of our mouths.
They tell us we won't make it through winter.
Through the fog that's rolling in.
That we will splinter and crack
That we will turn into empty soap boxes.
I promised these walls I would see them again.
Two eyes are sometimes all I can give.
This rain is guilt-free.
But I will repeat my apologies like broken clockwork until you leave me.
Will my lips still taste like coffee
when you come again someday?
Will my fingers still smell like cigarets
when you're a thousand miles away?

I'm so drunk I can't think straight,
but talking to you helps me block out  all the hate,
I want to let you in,
But I can't I don't want you to know my sin,
How ****** up I am in the head,
**** I hope you're amazing in bed,
I hope we have no regrets,
You look so **** hot smoking your cigarets,
You fill me with happiness and bliss,
I feel so different when you give me a kiss,
You don't know how much I'm filled with saddness,
Or when I go crazy from my madness,
Please hold me down and be my weight,
I don't want time to go by it could be too late.

Maggot maggot you homosexual ******
Give me your love, but not up the ***
because I'm not into that

At dawn, I plummeted plumply into that mama pore on the tip of my nose. Just as I thought I had shrunk it, exterminated it, I was ****** up and made disappear. Mama pore has millions of babies strewn across my face. Busybabies they are, cooking up grime and sweat, and grubby oil, day and night - plastering it all over my face.

No army of cleanser, toner, scrubs, facials, masks can defeat my beastly pores, not even that overpriced, scientifically-proven-to-work, tried and tested elixir I spent a month's wages on - it seems. Back to bed, I go. I'm a threat to society, looking like that. Flicking through beauty pages, I see no mama pores. Pity you can't photoshop real-life skin. I would.

Dr Google is out of answers too, so what now? I know! Ice cream, a whole packet of cigarets and twenty cups of coffee for breakfast. The doorbell rings. I'm driving you to work today, have you forgotten? Betty shouts across the intercom. Buzz me in! Reluctantly, I do, open the door to an army of mama pores nestled on the wings of Betty's nose. On the way to work, we talk pores and how to get rid of them.