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camel cigarettes and bad decisions
I watched my father worry away his stress in packs of camel cigarettes.
I sat on porches with him at night to see what it felt like to be chosen over addiction.
I would carefully inspect the smoke that came from his lips from the porch steps.
The smoke intrigued me by what childhood imagination I had left.
On the nights he would stay away from home I would light a fire to see it again.
I wondered if the tiny flames would hurt when it would hit his chest.
I watched myself worry away stress in packs of camel cigarettes.
I sat on the edges of my roof at night to see what it felt like to choose addiction.
I would carefully inspect the small flames that I needed to ignite me in the very depth.
The smoke intrigued me by what inspiration I had left.
On nights that I felt far away from my heart; I would light a fire to fall apart.
I wondered if the tiny flames would hurt more than I did inside my chest.
I guess I’m not that different than my father’s choices.
We were both held by the warmth of a cigarette and its fresh poison.
I sat on porches with him at night to see what it felt like to be chosen over addiction.
I would carefully inspect the smoke that came from his lips from the porch steps.
The smoke intrigued me by what childhood imagination I had left.
On the nights he would stay away from home I would light a fire to see it again.
I wondered if the tiny flames would hurt when it would hit his chest.
I watched myself worry away stress in packs of camel cigarettes.
I sat on the edges of my roof at night to see what it felt like to choose addiction.
I would carefully inspect the small flames that I needed to ignite me in the very depth.
The smoke intrigued me by what inspiration I had left.
On nights that I felt far away from my heart; I would light a fire to fall apart.
I wondered if the tiny flames would hurt more than I did inside my chest.
I guess I’m not that different than my father’s choices.
We were both held by the warmth of a cigarette and its fresh poison.
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