Friday, October 1, 2010


Having tar in your lungs can do extraordinary things to your brain.

I have taken up smoking for the week, or until I finish the cigarettes that are sitting on my fridge (I think there are 6).

I had 2 this evening, and even though I'm doing it wrong, according to local experts, they were nice. I like being outdoors and chatting and watching the smoke curl away into the darkness and I like the sudden rush of calm that accompanies a long, burning inhalation. I like the taste that these leave on my mouth (cloves, cinnamon, delicious).

I do not like how shaky my hands feel right now. To be expected from one's first nicotine, I'm told.

Every time I close my eyes all I can imagine is curls of smoke streaming out from my eyes, my nose, my lips. Just all of me smoking away into the black, and one day I will be entirely burnt up and gone.

I can't exhale enough to get all the smoke out of me.
It is there forever.
I am sorry.

As thoroughly awesome as the calm is, I don't think I'll buy another pack.
I like my sense of taste
And my hands smelling like soap and dead sharks
And my voice
And my father trusting me
*Savouring calm feeling before it is replaced with shame and I need to resort to cocaine*

It is good for now.

Mmmm, cloves.

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