pockets and lighters

have you ever met a hard smoker?
or more specifically, watched how
some non-smokers react?
they twist their lips in disgust,
then fashion their eyeballs into
iron rods and pierce them with
prejudice. but sometimes i wonder
about every moment a smoker
kisses a cigarette. what kind of
memories are they trying to
reminisce upon or forget? are
they trying to let the day go, or
are they trying to grow a tiny
hint of satisfaction because in
that moment only so little needs
to be in control? smoke and fire;
smoke and fire. when the nicotine
hugs them close, do they feel tired,
or cowardly, or even nothing at all?
hard smokers, are they trying to have
quiet conversations with their mind?
or are they just trying to quiet every
thing in a small passage of time?
or is there a thrill of warmth? the desire
to bring fire as close to their hearts as
they can? a tiny hope fit for pockets and lighters.
so many people throw up
a nasty stare for the “crime”, instead of
caring about the person behind the cloud
trying to be a human being both out in the
world and within their own minds

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