Smoking into life
There's a cigarette between my lips,
Slowly it's burning into me,
Slowly it's turning me into it,
Just a body which burns,
The smoke I inhale doesn't kill me
Because every moment I breath,
it feels like the next one is the last one.
Slowly I am seeing myself melting into the smoke which destroys and fades slowly and painfully at the end like a painting,
Slowly I have surrounded myself with a smoke of melancholy,
Slowly am becoming what I feared most of my life, Manifestation of me.
Slowly am churning out the smoke like a soul churned out of a body,
Yet I seem to see everything clearly,
The destruction am creating,
The destruction am becoming,
It's like the devil got it's own vessel to do out his job,
Spilling the ink of darkness over the bright soul that it was once.
Am I slipping into a dark void with no exit,
Maybe but I'm not sure I want to go out,
Am I good, am I bad, I am not conflicted over it anymore,
Am Nothing, I don't define myself anymore
Am indefinite, yet I seem to care what the smoke and the cigarette in my finger is turning me into,
The intoxicated self which is beginning to show itself is a little overwhelming but then it was coming,
I see myself clearly now after the smoke fade away, I am me,
The manifestation of me but then now it doesn't really matter.
Look how slowly the devil's own burning creation turning me into dust and ashes.