(Warning: Non-smokers are advised not read this piece)
In a flick of a finger freedom lights.
With a flame comes smoke billowing down my throat…
up my nostrils and out of my mouth.
A thousand flames are lit, in every corner of the street, in every city block, in most coffee shop lounge.
A piece of paradise found. Baked leaves-the burning sound. Silence.
Inhaling the scent, Nicotine stains my lips, in the eyes of the weary-a quarter of my life is lost.
In their petty stares, a question mark hovers above their heads-why smoke? Why waste? Why?
In the burrows of my thought I say-why not? Their moral objectives cannot define what true health is.
I compromise one to satisfy the other. I compromise my health to satisfy my being.
It’s the sin of the smoker, the confession of the man behind the nicotine silhouette.
It’s like a bullet aimed at your head, every puff, every breath and the trigger is pulled.
It’s a luxury enjoyed by the many no matter what state of life they are in.
The crazy. The poor. The middleman. The executive.
The president. The boss. The retiree.
Although the minors are kept at an arm’s length away from such.
It’s sooner than later that they are going to join the bunch.
Society dictates what is wrong and what is right. And society is composed of you and I.
You and I. You smoke. I smoke. Let it be that way.
In our deathbed, the only smoke we’ll see is either coming down from heaven or rising up from hell.
Until that day, smoke and live. Cheers my friend.
Let’s us have a good day.
