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Cigarettes and Empty Thoughts
Part of a series of poems "Cigarettes and..."
Oh Christ, I'm fucking hungry
For the cigarette days full of black coffee,
Tiny little jeans, and horrid aftershave
When I was a nail-bitten mess
Hopped up on so much caffeine
My dreams buzzed with it.
.
I'm fucking starving
For the taste of my own blood,
The reminiscent feeling of growing nostalgia.
Didn't I know that I would miss it?
The green tea, the rope around my wrist,
The rub of things always pissing me off?
.
I remember the color of the fridge,
Gunmetal gray through the cigarette smoke
And I can feel the burning embers warming
Perpetually cold hands,
Filling hopeless lungs that would otherwise
Drown.
.
Is that what I'm doing now, then?
Drowning.
It must be, because I can't taste the smoke
Or the tobacco
Or the beautiful, bitter black coffee.
I can only inhale thick, suffocating truths.
.
Those cloudy days are gone.
But I want to be back on the bottom.
I want to feel the hopeless shadows
Swirl around cavity-ridden teeth
And bite into poison apples
Until the carriage comes to carry me home.
.
I want to pretend the nightmares bother me
And lie about missing Jupiter in the three a.m. sky.
I want to sink my nails into my skin and hear it tear
And find comfort in knowing I am changing my suit,
My mask, my face, my soul.
I want to pretend I never overcame the darkness.
.
I want it to win.
I want to sink my teeth into a good fucking
That leaves me empty inside
With the taste of regret and that glorious flavour
Of burnt pancake house coffee
Floating on my tongue.
.
I want to pretend I won't see you again,
That I'll wait until midnight
When my car's out of gas
Until I'll call you.
I want to know I would have done it
No matter the time.
.
About the Creator
Silver Serpent Books
Writer. Interested in all the rocks people have forgotten to turn over. There are whole worlds under there, you know. Dark ones too, even better.
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Eye opening
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Comments (12)
Love reading your voice. Beautiful way you have with words.
Damn you are one hell of a writer. I want to fall back into the time of my own fucked up-ness, not all of it, but the part when I didn't know why I was so jaded and rolled my own cigarettes and painted in my room with red wine and The Doors on my stereo.
Reading this I want coffee, I want cigarettes even though I quit, and I want to drown and remember all the people I’d like to think I’d call. Amazing poetry
Entire work is highly relatable, emotion-stirring!
On rereading I am entranced, grabbed by the lines "And I find comfort in knowing I am changing my suit, My mask, my face, my soul" LOVE that! Entire work is
Gut punching! Nice!
Well done! Keep pushing forward with your excellent work—congrats!
Very relatable and an excellent poem.
Raw and intense. Congrats on Top Story!
Speechlees. I have never seen these emotions so perfectly captured. Visceral and raw. I can't wait to read more of your writing!
This is raw, powerful, and very well written. Congrats on the TS.
Gosh this was so freaking intense! Loved your poem!