do you ever get depressed
not knowing what’s coming next
not able to undo the past
despite your efforts the good won’t last

smoking every day making my life hazy
cuffed in place with these chains of daisies

folding playing cards when i didn’t used to
it’s the little things that make me miss you

Quitting Is no easy job.
Packs of 20 get thrown away,
At least 5 times before the words
‘I’m done’
Can be released for your mouth to say.

So what’s your burden?
A traumatic incident formed from a full grown man, a child and some ****?
A mountain of reading, endless literature to form your statements into ones that are good?
Or is it an occupation?
One that you’re punishing yourself with, as a realisation from all of your revelations?

Burning sticks only point to one truth,
That you need more in your life to do.
Rather than let burning sticks do what they do best,
Fill your lungs with so much mud,
Air no longer passes through your chest.

But maybe it isn’t a burden.
Maybe it’s simply a yearning,
For you to finally feel something,
To give yourself an experience that reminds you of loving,
Or hating.

The game ends anyways so it’s alright.
Burning sticks may go out but you can always relight.
You may burn your lungs until you delight,
But just know that at the end of the day,
This is your own fight.

A shared cigarette
like a pirouette
spinning through my mind
a kiss, a touching of hands,
Rosy cheeks and a quick
stammering of words.
Brought with spark
and gone too soon
Like a shared cigarette

Take a walk through my head
Listen to my thoughts
Spend a day in my shoes
You'd start drinking
Smoking
*******
Anything to make it stop

in your stomach, in your lungs—
what is it you’re running from?

to my core, all for the fun,
but in the end i’ll run towards your gun.

It tastes like you,
From start to finish.
As I flick the lighter,
And the flame warms my face,
I can feel your light blinding me again.
That first inhale,
It’s something divine,
Like when you open the door for me,
Wearing leggings and a cropped long sleeve.
As I inhale, the flames burn my throat
Like saying goodnight after one of our long talks.
Holding it in my lungs, I’m transported.
On your porch, leaning against each other,
In your car, singing a Disney song
In your kitchen, crying about a hypothetical.
As I exhale, I can feel it
The words coming out of my mouth
Like a waterfall I can’t control
“I like you so much,
You’re so beautiful”
So I continue to smoke them,
One puff at a time,
And remember our moments,
Trying to keep them all mine.
The last hit always burns my lips a little,
Warm and sweet,
Like your lips were on mine.
It’s killing me slowly,
But then, so were you.

frozen to death
its all i can see
smoke in the ear calls to my feens
Im here and Im there
making it hard to breathe
back and forth
falling up but always jumping back down

why or what can make this be seen.