I smell on your clothes
the reek of addiction
yellowed fingers betray
your burning passion

This hatred
soaks into my bones.

Bouquets of plastic flowers
The smell of cigarettes
and used rubbers
saturate my senses

A sweet kiss
a deluge of poison
armistice broken
for selfish desire

This drought
this doubt
this never ending fear
it grinds against my soul

Do you even know me?
Am I even here?
Crashing into bars
of a gilded cage

The bird with clipped wings
Grounded
A song of melancholy
lingers in the air

I wish I still smoked
**** yeah
It's the ritual
the need to make time
to die a little
opening a new pack
shiny cellophane
the lid flipped back
paper seal for freshness
pulled out to reveal
20 happy moments spent
inhaling, coughing, thinking
the soft packets
where you flicked the
cigarettes out like movie
stars and the Marlboro man
who are all dead now
roll ups, kit form bronchitis
liquorice flavour papers
combining childhood flavours
with adult life takers
the smell clinging to clothes
and hair dragon breath
but we all looked so ****** cool
so adult so grown up
so ****** clueless, *******
on our manly pacifiers
I wish I still smoked
**** yeah
just don't have the courage
some how

Remember that summer
when it was dry and heavy
but in the evening
the breeze would gently
sway the smoke
of your cigarette in my hand
when you were trying
to teach me how not to choke

And I remember coughing
and laughing it off with you,
how smoke had always
been around me
but my lungs were funny
'bout this direct approach

And we talked 'bout everything
from heartbreak, to lovers, to family
And I truly felt wonder
at the simplicity of those moments
and how much they meant to me

So much I look back to them now
when it's winter and I'm alone
missing your warmth, your voice
and itching for a smoke

On a cigarette ****
that burned out
but forgot to smoke,
in a cup of coffee
whose dregs
are accidentally swallowed,
also a pile of novels
whose contents
are only romance,
I love you like a loss.
I once imagined
you were writings
that I needed to read many times
until I could understand
then I guessed
and ended up
still wrong.
Sometimes,
we are too confident
for things that are not
necessarily certain
then turned off
after reality hit it
repeatedly.

I grabbed the lighter off the counter
I walked outside
It was late
I was home alone that night
I sat on the side of the sand box in front of my house
My hand was shaking
I was exausted
I was stressed
I just needed something
Anything

I pull the Cigarette from the altoids tin I hid it in
I pull it up to my lips
I flick the ligter and a flame shoots up
I light the end and take a deep breath it
The end glows with red embers
Suddenly everything is quiet
I exhale blowing out the smoke
It's the last gohst of my inncoence that floats away
I take another breath in and am filled with a silent minds

My mind is finally quiter
After years of no stop chatter
All is quiet

I was told to say away from you
I was told that you would **** me
I was told that you were a cancer
I was told and didn't listen
You burned me more than that first Cigarette had
You made it harder to breath than the smoke I inhale
You we more cancerious than the nicotine in my blood
You were worse than the Cigarettes I smoke

Some cigarettes
that you have smoked
will tell you;
this is a life
where you must not give up
and keep trying
and hoping
for every good
that grows
from your breath.

drinking alone, smoking,
playing dead, overthinking,
a psyche made of bad habits
and a stomach that's always sinking.
this is the summer of silhouette,
laying in the shade, apathetic slumber,
the figure of a man in the background,
counting my ribs and fearing the number.
i go transparent in the sunset -
the sickness is tangible, apparent,
just as i knew, feared -
it's buried in my chest, inherent.
i can't get better when
it's just paper mache and cigarettes;
i pray and pray and pray
but no one's heard me yet.