smoke ‘em if you got ‘em

i believe in god, cigarettes,

and everything is exactly

as it is. i approach every

temptation with my ears

wide open. i am empty of

delusion, distortion and

denial. my hell is always

the harvest of my prayers.

my poverty is self-inflicted.

i pay with home canned

pickles. my mirth is in the

perennial smile of the

seasons. my heart beats

in the eye of a hurricane.

my fingertips are sour. i have

eaten my pudding looking for

proof. there is nothing that i

lack. there is nothing lost,

everything can be found in

each breath i take.

 

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