Now cigarettes doesn't burns you
as much as the false nostalgia
when it is
conjurered by your brain,
just like the aftereffects of October 31.
And, you wonder,
Why insomnia is suddenly your best friend.
Ah! because, the October is here,
The same chilly October,
The same chaotic Autumn
Who has the propensity to summon the ghost of past,
after all it's the "Autumn",
Bright red and burnt orange
the Harbinger of everything nice but in dream.
Thats why you longed for that warm cider cocktails and the pumpkin spice,
but their metallic toxicity,
and their bewitching presence,
harvest nothing but Halloween,
where death climax with smile.
The gush of their passive presence
burn you like cold wind,
unlike your first puff,
where you thought
be toxic for you,
same as the dictataton of their thoughts
in these stained pages, stressed by a splat of color.
The mettalic Red.
You became the hungry bird
and prepare for their rueful presence in your dreams,
but you forget Insomnia is your best friend,
And, Autumn is nothing but a goblet of wine with a cigar.
The burning bitterness of smoke plummeting in your lungs
won't choke your bronchials as much as their smokey eyes.
As lanterns turn bitter and yellow,
so does your veneer heart,
you won't feel the toxicity of cloud shape smoke,
or the shadow of nostalgia cropping your joyful dolls.
But, just like saffron leaves,
Your inner Paris will welcome the Trojon Horse,
And, yet you will embrace it like the candid Winter,
to mark the end of your Troy!