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Cigarette Salvation

Rating: 5.0
The cylinder stick that self medicates the soul,
a cigarette in the night wind where nicotine takes control,
I can only open my mouth to scream but nothing comes out but smoke,
The same smoke that stares me in the eyes which causes guilt to provoke,
The cigarette that takes dopamine two seconds to hit the brain,
The dopamine that turns warm blood into a cold sensation of Novocain,
Every time I inhale I send smoke to my lungs to cure the pain,
Until I exhale a silent scream where repressed memories flee in vain,
The smoke acts a messenger of prayers that rises in the moonlight,
Where the plea of salvation inside in a form of smoke condenses in the night,
The cigarette that self mutilates the body as it burns the lungs,
Where words of fiery motivation inside is washed out and projects from the tongue,
The addictive substance of nicotine that controls the psychological need,
The addictive substance that burns away anger and rots the evil seed,
An evil seed inside that’s the nucleus to anger, stress, and despair,
The nicotine that dilates the pupils in my eyes where I can find escape anywhere,
A cigarette the cylinder stick of cancer that fulfills the physical need,
A cancer stick of miniature dynamite that accelerates sleepiness and fatigue,
Where surges of adrenaline is driven to the heart at an accelerated speed,
That acts a self medication for the life that I lead,
While my heart beats faster I can still feel the pain,
The pain of never awakening and everyday being the same,
Where the fire at the end of the cigarette is the only motivation I have left condensed in smoke,
Until the end of the fire burns to the filter after numerous ashings that I stroke,
When it burns out I go into a dark room and my creative side of my brain is on fire,
Where I can see the world around me in what I choose from paradise to the sea of dark desires,
To a deserted island with only me alone, to lands I can only see in my minds eye that’s unknown,
The cigarette smoker that’s looked down on from eyes all around,
Even in the case of the cigarette smoker who’s thoughts and creativity remain profound,
If I had the choice around me, I’d be alone and condense myself in the smoke I breathe all around,
So I can say good bye to horrid memories and repressing anger without the screaming sounds,
The cigarette that self medicates my mind no matter the weather,
From sunlight, to dark skies or in my imagination both of them at the same time comprised together.
No matter what time of day the smoke nurtures my soul,
While I stare blank at the reality of the world when I inhale it exhale it whole.

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4/16/2021 1:29:06 PM #