cigarettes, existentialism, and the wandering mindA Poem by the tipsy writerI’ll open a pack of cigarettes When the night is that kind of cool and crisp When the sun is setting And your bones start to chill Or when the morning is wet and heaviness clings to the air like a lover after a one night stand But they still lie in your bed in the morning I’ll open a pack of cigarettes. To contemplate, to wonder, to idealize The possibilities of a tomorrow I don’t yet want to come Because I’m stuck in now and I don’t want to leave Because the nicotine has calmed down the anxieties Festering inside, day after day, Until only the sweet tobacco of American Spirit Finally relieves me of the chains around my mind. Until I only worry about my increasing risk of cancer But I ignore it Because I’m sure my stress would kill me quicker I’ll open a pack of cigarettes On a quiet night Nothing Just me Just the stars And the cloud of smoke to keep my company As I philosophize whether I’d call myself an existentialist Because yes, the world has that sort of agonizing freedom That is crippling but so damn beautiful Because I have all the freedom to become The very best me, Defined by me I can become that person who lives life by her own rules. Who is so authentically herself Others say to themselves I want what she has I can become that person who Promises this will be the last one It won’t be I’ll buy another in a week © 2024 the tipsy writerReviews
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2 Reviews Added on October 16, 2024 Last Updated on October 16, 2024 Authorthe tipsy writerCAAboutAbout me? Flourless chocolate cake is my favorite thing in this world. I think the movie "Elf" is overrated... sorry, not sorry. I would kill for a fraction of Terry Pratchett's wit. I was switc.. more..Writing
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