smoke curls

it always has.
it always will.
for some reason i am obsessed with its doing so.
if it is happening nearby i must bear witness.
when i drink alone i think about smoke.
i watch it do its thing whenever possible.
i feel that i must title some significant cryptic work of art after smoke.
smoke defines the way i see myself.
merciful before the wind.
unpredictably beautiful.
passionately independent.


Blogger Amos said...

a stolen cigarette moment in a lonely alley way between restaurants and abandoned brick always comforts me in melancholy mood

10:51 AM  

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