From: Life is a ***** Quotes;
"The *** was
                       so good even the neighbors
                                                                ­        had a cigerette"

'Hahaha good one' I said
                                            'and even better yet'
(the ***) (souled union)                                          'with and no one dared'

'lit one up'
                  'and called it ever after'
                                                          ­'for the inner fire glow'
                                                           ­                                        'merged with thee outer'

'already and forever willing'
                                                   'in the truer feng shui'd'
                                                         ­                                       'human endeavor'

'in the tantric'
                            (say like dow)          
                                                          'Tao'
­
                                                                ­         (and mean as way)

                                                               ­                                                   'of'
         ­                                                                 ­                                                       'All'
                                                           ­                                                                 ­               (be)
                                                                ­                                                                 ­                    'Being'

That is love truely expressing itself through oneness with the One Law of Love!!!
The X (factor) is yours and possibility is interdependent upon the X of you!!!

From the Eternal and smokeless fire, Sa Sa Sunny

From Marlboros, and thinkin horribles,
Each time I think of you is another cigarette gone from my pack.

I start my pack full, I test the weight, loving the feel of a full pack in my hand,
But with every thought, they start to slip through my fingers like sand, and find their way home on my lips, where my tears just fall off and drip.

I started with 20, doing so far so good.
Wait whats that? you called?? there goes my mood.

A thought of you, a image plus two and then Im done with a few.
(17)

I choke on my fears, while I clench my hair
I called you my dear, and now im done with a pair.
(15)

Anxiety is something which I so not lack,
Giving my breath to this dwindling pack.
(13)

You feed my addiction being the flame,
my heart burns black, while it bears your name.
(10)

I sit and ponder on these thoughts I wish to behave,
Two more ignites, to feed the darkness in which I crave.
(8)

My pack is now dwindling low,
As I struggle to maintain a steady air flow.
How else can you sleep, when you've been hit with such a harsh blow.
(6)

I have clipped my wings,
after i have fallen oh so low,
in search of my name in your voice, but it is another mans love in which you sing.
This cigerette is now the only thing that glows.
(3)

(Braxton) I remember from where I came and god its a shame,
I just wish the addiction never screamed your name

Empty. Like my heart, the hollow pack crumples in my hands, wishing to be filled.
But the self destructive cycle repeats again, and again. .
And I begin my pack full, yet again testing the weight..

i cant stand myself without u
and frankly i feel its the world
the only one that will face me is my watch
the only one that will stand my smell is this cheap cigerette
the only one that will kiss me is the ***** bottle
with no one but my pillow to ******
you gave me your heart and i let it tumble
sports analysts would call that a fumble
the play was simple but i let it crumble
now another grows spiritually with u
i remember when it was just us two
before i put my neck in this noose
love is a war field with no trues
just guns guitars and blues
torn trousers,sheered shoes
ugly duckling great goose
virtual lovers distant soulmates
brought together by a common destine
separated by two separate fates
i wrote once its better a heart that loves than one that hates
i need you to love me
like Adam ******* on 51st dates

In the solitude of London trying to forget the past
The chaotic mess of my life played out at last
A forgotten trench coat steps out the shadows
Towards a romance of glorious tomorrows

Standing tall by the lamppost at twilight
Cigerette in hand, collar turned up tight
The pale moon shines down onto the street
And lights a faint mist around your feet

He pulls back his hat by its brim
Grey eyes beckon me over to him
He takes me in the folds of his coat
I swoon as my heart starts to float

Suddenly, I had to catch my breath, I arose from my pillow trembling and stunned from a nightmare. My heart thumping incessantly against my chest. Sweat drops were streaming from my face. I gazed at the fan whirring above me and then to the flayed walls that surrounded me. I turned to the light that begged to come in from a drawn shade, half-drunk alcoholic bottles, and an uncapped night time sleep aid on my counter. It was oh so familiar: the perpetual nightmares, the same ceiling fan whirring sluggishly above me, the alcohol I used to drown my sorrows in and the pills. I was weary of the depressing ambience. I couldn’t wake up to this another night. Under my breath, while using a finger to wipe the crust from the corner of my eye I muttered "how will I ever get out of this labyrinth?"

              I sauntered outside my room to the living room, grabbed a diet coke from the fridge, swiped a Malborne cigarrete and a lighter from the counter, and stepped out the door. I perched on the stairway leading to the mahogany door and lit a cigarette. As I drew the nicotine in, I started to ponder on the quickest and most painless way to take my life. after much contemplation and weighing of options, I came to a decision. I hurled the cigerette on the ground, stepped on it till I was certain I put it out, twisted the door ****, and slammed the door behind me. I unbuckled my belt as I walked into my room, climbed atop my bed, fastened the belt around my neck and hung it to that same sluggish fan. Who knew it will be the death of me? I took my last deep breath, then took a step forward without hesitation. There was a sudden grasp around my neck, and a shriek came bursting out from the tightness of my throat. I found myself six inches above the ground begging for air, waving my arms in an awkward motion as though that will somehow save me. My soul was slipping away from its body. I could feel it. I could feel a separation, and even though I had always been skeptic about whether we have souls or not, this last few minutes cleared every doubt. It was departing, that unfathomable thing within us that we sometimes describe as light or as the Hindus call it "I" was departing from its home. Everywhere slowly turned dark, even though my eyes were bulging outside its sockets. And Just before I embarked on a journey atop the coach of death, a muffled scream brought air back to my lungs and sent electric shocks through my body.

            Suddenly, there was another urge to catch my breath. I arose from an unfamiliar bed with no fan whirring above me. The walls were cream white, no half-drunk alcoholic bottles laying on their sides. But there were pills in a transparent bottle. Myriads of them stacked neatly in a cabinet. It took me a while to realize I was laying on a hospital bed. It also took me a while to discern a hand clutching firmly to mine. I turned my head slowly to my sisters cried out eyes fixed on me.

have you ever lost your keys and have them in your hand

have you ever got out the shower and forgot to rinse the shampoo out of you hair

have you ever locked your keys in the car and left it running

have you ever went shopping and forgot your wallet

have you ever called your girl friend by another girls name

have you ever drove from point a to point b and forget how you got there

have you ever drank a beer with a cigerette but in it

have you ever **** or ****** in your pants, just a little

have you ever threw up on somebody

have you ever forgot where you parked your car

have you ever had a conversation and didn't hear a word

have you ever tell someone you love them and didn't mean it

have you ever found the elf that steals one of every pair of socks, who hides your sun glasses and steals your money

have you ever blacked out from drinking

have you ever got tired of writing

When it came to love an idea was much better than reality.

When it came to hate blindness was much better than understanding.

When it came to guilt emptiness was much easier than healing.

And then the cigerette died and the sun set, it's time for leaving.

hair on the bathroom sink
a lit cigerette not far from it
the smell of stolen cologne
cool dye resting on my scalp
the only thing in my system is a can of monster
ive never felt more connected to the world i want to escape to

visions of betrayal follow missions that are fatal / mistletoe it cradles hollow angels with no halo who are sublime to lower beings that think it’s right to be worthy \
a plume of bullets sniping each threshold to a plea that cancels the rain for a peaceful slumber comes over when desperation takes way.
never trust a moon in gemini
he put a spell on me \ somewhere along the lines / the charm worked too much \ the way he looked and did and walked and hid / he put a spell on me \ the way he spins me back to him / he put a spell on me \ because i'm his: and he knows it, yes: he knows it, and he woes it, yes. . .  // he put a spell on me! and this time! he's known what he's done! oh! ... oh
You put my faith
regular monways: then it doesn't matter at all
drippley dots
all i have to do is release my body
and contort
it doesn't matter if it's sour or sweet
i have to give it everything i have
all i have to, all i have to do is release
drinking let go
dressed up dripping downwards dog
salad and something curling my
toestry to stop
weil,  wail, never
bring me to a Yee!
flames rest in your eyes and there's guns that shoot out your mouth:
holding a cigerette 'tween furrowed brows, smoke to veil the crowd through:
it's no wonder every man in town, has neither fought nor found you: you say i need a leader and inside my heart, i must be strong to show this.

the downside of having quit smoking:
the lamb is sheered...
the lamb is skinned -
obviously crucified prior...
the lamb is cured - the lamb is
either poached or grilled...
one is expected to choke on an
artefact of bone like it were
some forbidden fruit...
      the downside of having quit smoking...
the brain says to the mind:
i'm not the old, usual-"self" we used
to share: it's not suffocating enough...
there was once a thrill...
a screeching and a scratching...
a drowning man hanging to dear
life while clinging to a razor-blade...
summer is coming with a bazar
of scents and other accents: colour...
it comes to change my skin from
pale porky pink to...
imitation greek or roman...
     yet i have no desire to despair
and write: how i don't hug and hello...
overtly-draw-lines-of-emphasis
of touchy-feely...
              i came to know...
rubbing my hands on gravestones
to be... a lost chisel: an "angry" spark...
        and when so many people have
been left in a limbo of a loss...
   their nostalgia is... a buttoned-up shirt
and a bow-tie noose...
some idle formality missing...
    i've sacrificed the suffocating brain...
the mind no longer loans itself
to a labyrinth of minstrel pressures...
there was never a rhyme...
   nor was there, really: in all honesty...
an estate to mind in up-keeping...
for whatever this was ever worth...
         all the better for it...
i hope the 81 year old oak of a man
doesn't pull the plug and bends his
one good knee and makes it justifiable
to have himself an exit...
otherwise all those words of wisdom
about how he quit smoking...
how... he should see how that i too could
quit... but that i didn't spawn
any great grandchildren: for him...
                             well... safe a bet without
competition: his son was also
put under the pressure to leave him
post-scriptum remains akin
to my tier of passing time...
         such old expectations...
that the father expects a son to leave
him grandchildren...
   that a grandchild is to leave him
great-grandchildren...
        i just picked up a cigerette...
burned the tree... left a stump:
         an ***** studded ****...
                             i welcome: a new affair
of breathing... and re-fathoming the intricacies
of a resurrected palette.

p.s. i guess that's like...
an inversion / antithesis of the butteryfly effect...
which... in a universe built
on paradoxes and vacuous growths of dreams
for sputnik showdowns...
as ever: the terrible has already
happened...
   i was never late to the party...
i wasn't going to a party...
                    but... beside: with or
without my consent... the party rages.