Regarding Cancersticks
Have you ever noticed the way cigarette smoke moves?
As it travels away from the end,it goes in a straight line then it goes crazy and forms complex patterns in the space above it.
If you squint and look sideways,it looks like a woman dancing.
I'm having one right now,its stuck between my index and middle finger,just letting out smoke until I stop typing and raise it to my mouth for a slow long puff that I will enjoy with relish.
its funny,these little sticks,deadly,poisonous,smelly,and yet I crave them with a vengeance.I long to stick one between my lips and light them.I need to see the tip flare up and to feel the smoke enter my lungs.
I want to see the smoke waft out in waves when I exhale.
God,I love cigarettes.
Menthol,Reds,Lights,fine leaf,cherry tobacco,I love them all.
Then theres the smell,the smell,oh god how I could talk about the smell.It smells of raw humanity and grime and dirt and all the dark places in the world.Its smell permeates my room now,working its way into my bed covers and my furniture,waiting until I light up again to come out and rejoin the air.
The butts of my previous indulgences sit in my ashtray,which Ive named Patrick.He is my smoke-time pal.
And I know its gonna kill me,in 30 or 40 years Im gonna be cursing my current self,while I wheeze and choke in a hospital room,waiting for the doctor to come tell me Ive got lung cancer or that Ive only got 3 months to live.
And as soon as I get out of the hospital,Im gonna light up and enjoy and nice long smoke.
Goddamn cancersticks.
cant live with them,cant live without them.
As it travels away from the end,it goes in a straight line then it goes crazy and forms complex patterns in the space above it.
If you squint and look sideways,it looks like a woman dancing.
I'm having one right now,its stuck between my index and middle finger,just letting out smoke until I stop typing and raise it to my mouth for a slow long puff that I will enjoy with relish.
its funny,these little sticks,deadly,poisonous,smelly,and yet I crave them with a vengeance.I long to stick one between my lips and light them.I need to see the tip flare up and to feel the smoke enter my lungs.
I want to see the smoke waft out in waves when I exhale.
God,I love cigarettes.
Menthol,Reds,Lights,fine leaf,cherry tobacco,I love them all.
Then theres the smell,the smell,oh god how I could talk about the smell.It smells of raw humanity and grime and dirt and all the dark places in the world.Its smell permeates my room now,working its way into my bed covers and my furniture,waiting until I light up again to come out and rejoin the air.
The butts of my previous indulgences sit in my ashtray,which Ive named Patrick.He is my smoke-time pal.
And I know its gonna kill me,in 30 or 40 years Im gonna be cursing my current self,while I wheeze and choke in a hospital room,waiting for the doctor to come tell me Ive got lung cancer or that Ive only got 3 months to live.
And as soon as I get out of the hospital,Im gonna light up and enjoy and nice long smoke.
Goddamn cancersticks.
cant live with them,cant live without them.