* i wrote this a good 10 years ago - now i get to type it*
The grey smoke rose over my head, like a dark cloud
fogging my view.
The little white tube rolling between my fingers, like a living
thing.
Burning & crackling to fulfill my need.
The desire to drag the air that's drained in nicotine, is similar
to that of a kid asking for his sugar dose.
Looking at the smoke, it similes a thread of grey, going straight up.
But the swaying left & right breaks the rhythm.
I try to follow it with my eyes, but it fades away to nothing.
It reminds me of a long narrow road leading to the sunset. And the burning cherry is the sun.
Only, it's a black & white image. It's a sweet journey towards death.
Each footstep is a dance i find the pleasure comes with the music in each & every drag.
As music fades away, i put my cigarette to sleep.
PS: i submitted this in my creative writing class. The teacher's reaction.. was probably similar to yours
fogging my view.
The little white tube rolling between my fingers, like a living
thing.
Burning & crackling to fulfill my need.
The desire to drag the air that's drained in nicotine, is similar
to that of a kid asking for his sugar dose.
Looking at the smoke, it similes a thread of grey, going straight up.
But the swaying left & right breaks the rhythm.
I try to follow it with my eyes, but it fades away to nothing.
It reminds me of a long narrow road leading to the sunset. And the burning cherry is the sun.
Only, it's a black & white image. It's a sweet journey towards death.
Each footstep is a dance i find the pleasure comes with the music in each & every drag.
As music fades away, i put my cigarette to sleep.
PS: i submitted this in my creative writing class. The teacher's reaction.. was probably similar to yours
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