Cigarettes and Reapers

It’s Blue Oyster Cult and it’s stuck in the wild waves

Of choppy hair, the silt gray eyes, and upside-down grin

That tastes like smoke and knows how to spell “trouble”.

I can stare endlessly at the sounds coming out of your mouth

And never figure out how you spin gold in there.

White gold.

Platinum.

.

The engine purrs as the car creeps through private property,

Classical rock whispering in the background.

Gravel peppers the underbody with gentle kisses,

Leaving lipstick marks of dirt all along the paint.

In the quiet like this, I can hear the question in your eyes.

I can hear it float out the open windows into the black night.

We’re just passers-by here, aren’t we?

.

And we’re flying, hitting 100 miles per hour in the country,

Whipping past beetles and corn and barking dogs.

The folk songs have shifted to sounds of warning.

A lone call amidst a very dark, moonless autumn night.

There was never any way out of making these memories.

We can only dive through the veil of thick smoke

And wait for the goodbye.

.

Because it is not a matter of if but when it will arrive.

Already the night has turned angry with the bite of winter.

I have breathed out the last of my warm sanity.

The frost has crept across my heart and I am scared.

Deep inside, the essence of me has begun to rot from the cold

And it is all I want to be devoured by you while the blood in my veins

Is still warm enough to steam so please, make me bleed.

.

Press tooth to skin and draw blood.

There is no moon tonight to judge this decision,

This barbaric tattooing of skin with memories.

Drink my blood and offer me an eternity of this slow destruction.

Or let me die.

Let me bleed out across your lips and let tomorrow’s moon

Wonder where I had run off to.

.

It feels good, doesn't it, to take a drink of the tobacco in my blood?

I'm inhaling it deep tonight, 'cus I can taste your warm ideals

On every drag of this cigarette.

You rattled on too much about your future.

The cold wind couldn't rip it from the cabin and now,

Ah, now I get to drink it up like an addict

And look through lazy eyes as you taste my perception of you.

_______________________________________

A/N: This is another in the Cigarette series. Enjoy! The rest are all below.

As well, I'd like to pose you all a question. How many of you would be interested in an exclusive subscription? I'm toying with different ideas but don't want to restrict your access to my work. One of the ideas I'm playing with is to release most of my explicit material there which includes several future poems in this collection, a handful of short stories, a few chapters/series, and some microfiction.

If I used this new feature, I'd likely be uploading one or twice a week (Wednesday and Friday) since I'd want to give you a good bang for your buck. Anyway, if you feel comfortable, let me know your take!

Cigarettes and Bedsheets

Cigarettes and Wildfires

Cigarette and Placeholder Dreams

Cigarettes and Cheap Highs

Cigarettes and Car Rides

Cigarettes and Blood Lust

Cigarettes and Empty Thoughts