It’s five in the afternoon, I have a cigarette in my hand
The wind whispers in my ear, sweet nothings
Alongside the chimes
Are the Fae delivering your message?
Have the winds answered my call?
I have a cigarette in my hand, it’s five oh five
The ashes fell on my pants
I look to my left, then i look to the sun, and all i hope for
I look to the right and see the ash and smoke, and ash
That i’d hoped i left behind
Its five oh seven, I have a cigarette in my hand,
its almost done
Even though it feels as if it was just lit
Its almost gone
Its five eleven in the afternoon
I buried the cigarette i didn’t finish
My throat burns
Why did I want it?
If I knew it’d burn.
Maybe
The burn Is,
what
I wanted?...
Perhaps so.