Cigarette, the love story
 

They say it’s been awhile, and how much time has passed. I nod and say, “Yes, it has. We’ll have to catch up later, man.”

I try to avoid chasing pasts, but somehow they always make it back and fool me into thinking they’ll last.

Still, I don’t know better.

Nothing survives forever intact.

You can’t capture youth. You’re just old, and think you’re cool. You’ve become a slave, and that’s something no one made you do. That comes with age, but your cage is nothing new. You’ve felt it all your life, but hoped maybe it wasn’t true. Those feelings don’t die, they just hide inside of you, and you only find them when your lies start showing through.

And as much as you try, you can’t hide them once they do.

The sad part of life is that it’s fine without you. So, what’s the point in trying when you’re dying no matter what you do? The hard part is finding that something in your life that you’ll love until you die.

But that something’s still hiding.

After a couple of beers, it’ll be mine.

Where did the time go, I wonder, but no one knows. After this glass I’ll know, I suppose.

I’m alone in this crowd (like a cliché) trying to hold in this crown (I haven’t eaten today). I have moments of doubt, but I try to sleep them away. Normally Heineken helps me find my dream state so I can see that smiling, sweetest face, only to wake up crying, “Why’d you leave me, Babe!?”

But you’ve already heard this before, and there’s more to my life. Like the time I dropped acid in the morning time, laying in a field mourning a suicide. I wish I could save her, but, yeah, there’s more to life. Of course I try to love, but why? Because substance is rare in a normal life.

Until that substance is heroine and she snorts and dies.

But you’ve already heard this before. By now this all is just a bore.

I'm starting to think it’ll take a couple more.

Cigarette, the love story,

up you go in smoke where you’ll echo through eternity as the memory only I know, and when I die, I hope, we’ll look back with the eyes of a ghost laughing at life like it’s a joke.

Until that time,

I’ll bide my own.

Zen

This is nasty as fuck zen. I have to step out. Got ro thats something no one made you do. Read it folks

sorry

this is very very good.

It's cool, man.

I'll drink one for your boy that passed.

nothing

Dope shit @Zen.

I love the conversational style.

You blend it effortlessly.

Really top work.

Wow. This was pretty heavy. I could relate to the tone in this and it felt a bit deeper than your language. I liked this bro.

The simplicity was clan man.. yet it nevwr strayed feom the topic and it went hard with the fact of technique being blessed in this bro

also, NOM'D

poignant. written well, too (though that's secondary). the use of substance, dually, was excellent.

This is one of those pieces where the quality speaks for itself. One that, when you read it, you wish you would/could have written, which is the highest compliment I can give. Thanks for the read.

Do we still do the Open Mic Hall of Fame? If so, this should be in it.

Good shit. Stay strong.

One of the best pieces I've read on this site, before & after it died.

This was nice man, really heart wrenching stuff towards the revelation
the flow of this made it a very smooth read, almost like reading a passage out of a novel
and then your like oh yea Ill read a little more and then as the reader you think.. whoa
regardless I thought this was amazing man, some really nice work..

You can’t capture youth. You’re just old, and think you’re cool. You’ve become a slave, and that’s something no one made you do. That comes with age, but your cage is nothing new. You’ve felt it all your life, but hoped maybe it wasn’t true. Those feelings don’t die, they just hide inside of you, and you only find them when your lies start showing through.


^^^
<3

Sign into the AOWL Zenland

I third that notion.

I also get quite agitated when Zen is continually under rated and under appreciated (rhymez, yo) because he's legit a better writer than nearly everyone on this site.

Dope