why I don't smoke anymore

 If hot coffee and cigarettes had a language of their own,

they would use their tongue to spill the secrets of so many-

abnormally normal people,

but in the time to incriminate the identities of hundreds of people,

I, with my own language,

couldn't muster the words to paint the picture of how I'm feeling,

even over a pot and a pack of camels


is that why the allure of oral fixation holds the anxiety-ridden community in a tight grip?

so that their mouths are busy,

way too busy to speak about the fucked up shit happening on the inside?

it's easier to take a couple puffs than to absorb yourself in a world of chaos


or how about that warm, melting feeling while listening to your favorite song?

for me,

the auricular addiction stems from the distraction that music entertains for me,

it's when that heartbreaking crescendo breaks my spirit that I remember

how fucking badly

the auricular addiction turns into an auricular devastation,

how can a tune and a couple of lyrics pinch a nerve so severely?

sad songs are saved for a dark bedroom, cold sheets and a few candles,

a dim light to remind you that you aren't floating in an abyss

of sorrow or fear


but I have to ask myself:

have I yet to discover

the way to truly cope with an indescribable feeling looming over my head?

...I think I'll just smoke another cigarette 

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