cigarette sadness (working title)
by Jonas Weaver
Cigarettes taste better with sadness.
Something about the sudden bitter buzz
and taste of shared spit on the butt sings
to the soul: gospel. Temporary relief will
always be better than timeless truths. Cause
at least it’s a fix to stop the bleeding, sometimes,
ironically, by bleeding. Cigarettes taste better with
the coughing lungs of a sad person not crying.
Who needs drink when you’ve got nicotine?
Who needs nicotine when you’ve got no one?
A lonely existence is still an existence full of
truth and sacrament. A lonely existence never
can be sad, truly, because isn’t living better
than dying? But aren’t we all fucking dying with
each breath? With each breath we take our next to last.
With each pull on the cigarette we eat more death
like Jesus and conquer it when we don’t keel over then
and there. Every moment a gospel of temporary relief