Cigarettes on Cigarettes

Sometimes I wonder

If I had more fun when my body was rot

When my lungs were black and the bottle rocked

Back and forth along a drunken palm

My head rolling along my shoulders

Constantly checking the floor, asses, and people’s shoes

Confused as to why the floor rocks like a sailing ship

My heart hits between the sips of vodka and pleasant pills

 

I wonder if I was cooler when I would take double

And it were my friends that were dying and getting in trouble

I wonder if I was cooler when I sold drugs to people less than

My age and we’d rage and I’d make future addicts out of the underage

I wonder if I was cooler when I got behind the wheel and drove

And joke about checking my bumper for blood in the morning

When I’d drive my car through fields and backyards

Was I cool when I got my first bong, my first pipe,

My second pipe, my third…

Was I cool when I went through that white line

With that hundred dollar bill that would become a few more

Lines


 

Am I really better now

After four years where

The only thing that has pierced my lungs

Is a few cigarettes

Am I better because a few beers

are all my liver has absorbed

Am I clean and godly and whole and pure and righteous and born again

Am I saved and sanctified and holy and right

Why is it that i still feel wretched and wrong and riddle with guilt and song


 

I think perhaps I am no better or worse

I just might live a little longer in this body suit

That’ll become a corpse

I think my being saved

And my being wretched

Are just moments

Not a single stamp

I think my soul is here

And my home is near

And every sing I’ve ever made

Is washed away with the tide

I think every castle I’ve built

And every caged I’ve stayed in

Is simple sand and feathers

Enough to be blown away by the wind

I think my soul is pure

And my home always open

And every thought that tells me different

Are just rocks with whom I should feel

Indifferent

I think no god, no thing, no man, no law

SHould claim to know what is right and what is wrong

I think within my soul I shall know w

Well enough

And to know my soul is wrong as often as it is right

And is wrong even when it thinks its right

Is to leave well enough alone

Because I could never travel the sands of time

Recapture all that makes me mine

I can never sort through all the lies that have been

Told to me and have been told by me

So I’ll be at peace with this is me

This is me

And everything about this is true

And everything about this is not

And love is all there is

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