(c) Adrianne Tolsch Cigarette Smoke
heavy strand of smoke, freedom rising beneath the ceiling,
I wander with you and I know nothing of the cares of the world.
you do not admonish me, or point towards my destination, but leave me floating, spacious, fleeing the abrupt which you did not cause;
the savor you leave me with has sickened oh so many, but many has cured
of loneliness, nervousness. the light at the end of the tunnel is where your ash lights up.
burn to ash what has once caused pain,
the stinking smell of failure, the reek of chaos, the echoing
no no no
burn the rejection letters, the closed doors, the bruises, the cuts, the greasy passing of time
oh what a tall order, little cigarette
when you lit, you ignite a lover’s spark and you humor a man on his way to decay.
burn the unlucky words, the tenses, the poor grammar, capital letters, full stops
I have none left in me
burn the madness, the stagnation that rots and drills holes in a remote body
burn burn and burn BUUUUUUUUUURRRRNNNNNNN
you master your art like no other
in pretending to comfort, you sell yourself for a high price,
you’re a respectful hooker
and they keep asking for one more round, one more round
and one more
until you’re left spoiled, lying on the bed
just as before, naked in your solitude
with delusions of greatness
that ad to the great panorama of waste
you have been warned, little child
you have been warned.
and with your last breath,
you burn every trace of grandeur.