Sonnet 16 February 2014

Iambic pentameter. Tell me if you see otherwise. Sonnet, attempted Italian Style. a b b a a b b a c d c d c d Comments are open to whatever you want to say.

A cigarette flies blazing in the air

As coffee sits in cups the color black

One lucky butt reversed inside the pack

Broke right in half as if the fates would care

The whirl 'n' twirl of smoke subdues the stare

Of thoughts, my ashes never coming back

This time makes up for other things I lack

As orange embers give their final flare

My caffeinated high won't last for long

As living always has a price to pay

The burning filter reeks of what is wrong

About the petty reasons why I stay

Perhaps the hand of death will bring along

A cigarette to toke my final day