Coo-
If you want to nest in the niche your song plays you have to learn not to want the rest. When everybody is not I shall be futuring my existence by quitting smoking.
Some Saturday ago I went off the road, it is true. An actual fact the policeman wrote down in the report.
I told him it was not my fault, something else pushed my Mini off on the grey bars of the cliff and someone danced my soul around before I pulled the hand break.
You see I might speed and might not drive when I should but I refuse to fall off a cliff.
And miracles do not happen anymore they say. We are all blind I say.
I danced with anger on the opposite side of the road and it so happened no car sped down that turn. Fusion and fuss of my broken wheel. She is lurking, not when I see a cigarette but when it is not there to tell me it is okay.
I had a minuscule white choke friend who-who smoked my fears away. I thought I would let it go
but then my mouth breaks down in inarticulate blazes of non-smoke.
You were born without it.He tells me. I hate being told more than quitting.
I was born without much. I inherited everything and the blurr of smoke tattooed itself on the aura of my existence.
Now, I am drowning the smoke in the Aegean sea of non-hope.
I gather my little fingers and shall draw my dreams of blue abroad.
