Wednesday, October 24

A smokey revelation...

Life can be a b*tch at times. Love. A far fetched concept in my opinion. Something you rad as a kid in fairy tales and look up at the sky wondering and wishing for eternal loving company that is apparently supposed to last forever? Will it??

A pack of nicotine tainted cigarettes is far more reliable in my point of view, well at least when compared to concepts lifted from fairy tales and dreams. They say they'll, them smokes, and they stick to their word. That's reliable enough ain't it?

I'm no cynic, am more practical actually. I refuse to believe that I will ever find true love, until I get it. Greedy, stupid, selfish, call me whatever you want, but that's just how I am.


Ever saw a cigarette burn? How one end is consumed by the flame, and how smoke is exhaled into the air in a cloud of smokey glory? My theory is based on that very phenomenon. That we burn. Burn. Burn some more. And thus end up as a discarded product of the very environment we live in. It is something that we all know. We all do. We're gonna die some day. But is it necessary to burn? Is it necessary to be the ash, when we can choose to e the smoke, free and dissolved? Smoke. It is something that has a momentary visible existence. A few seconds and it's gone. But it's beautiful. For the few seconds that it exists, it leaves a mark on the eye of the beholder. To me it does. I guess. It has a source. The flame. The flame and the smoke live mutually in condescending harmony. The smoke is a different world altogether.

The Oxford dictionary defines a cigarette as a thin cylinder of finely cut tobacco rolled in paper for smoking, and nicotine, as a toxic oily liquid found in them smokes. Whatever. I never cared about the details. Not scientifically at least. I I never liked Oxford anyway. You smoke, get a high, and come back to ground zero. Not a big deal, but some of us need something to keep us occupied, and look busy.