To Die For

I like to smoke but I don’t know why.
I spend lots of money and want to cry.
I’ve burned lots of clothes, now I just sigh.
I’ve bummed from strangers even though I’m shy.
~
I’ve smoked cigars, but butts good bye.
I know smoke a pipe, looks good with a tie.
I can’t smoke on planes, so I don’t fly.
It makes me cough but I don’t get high.
~
I became addicted in the blink of an eye.
I stole packs from my parents, thought I was sly.
I shared them with friends, how cool was I.
I’ve hidden it from family just like a spy.
~
But if you need a light, I’m your guy.
If you need answers I’ll say don’t pry.
I can’t quit today so I won’t try.
Maybe tomorrow, but we know that’s a lie.

~*~
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Dreaming Tomorrows

Another day of quitting to quit,
another day to feel like a twit.
My morning had started pretty well,
but as the day warmed so did my hell.
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So I jumped in my car to cool my head,
but took a wrong turn and to the store I sped.
I bought some milk and tobacco too.
Then I limped home and smoked till blue.
~
Tomorrow’s gladly another day.
I’ll rise optimistic with demons at bay.
Boiling water the urges will swell.
The heat will be on then back to hell.
~
Will I submit or stand and fight?
The battle lost the end’s in sight.
But now it’s to bed to dream as I do.
Will there be many or be just a few?

~*~
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Foreign Concepts

~*~
Touched by humility with time to wait and see.
Humorously dashed to experiment in honesty.
Words can be precise but only when alone.
Much like life itself, it’s dark and damp beneath the stone.

A curious squirrel climbs a lilac to explore my porch.
We both wonder why I’m here.
The squirrel retreated though not defeated.
It is they who won, I remain seated.

Less I digress, more to be sure.
Life changes on a dime, I left to write with only rhyme.
Chaka baby beckons beyond, nostalgic breath I’m fond.
Dancing in an imaginary chair, day’s gray, air just fair.

Nicotine lingers, perhaps to know this first.
Sinking, swimming and drowning and yet still the thirst.
Thoughts flood of minutes, days, weeks and years.
Words flow when controlled by the moon and a sea of tears.

Laughter waves at depths unfathomable.
And the ring of life is forever shareable.
Journeys don’t end when the seeing changes.
Time begins anew when life engages.

My mind is weary; it’s a pile of abstract fluff with no thoughts to puff.
But I’ll write again tomorrow, cos enough is never enough.

*
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