A coquettish spiral of smoke dances from my cigarette
It disappears into an industrial fog
No more kids playing in the streets
My eye contact with the local widow is stirring trouble again
The blunders of death are my romantic outlets
I miss the pace of young love
Unfettered hearts, then, like unfettered doves
I will dote on this cigarette and court its cancer
And then be lost to the above
…Or mayhaps what lies below…
I cannot decide my fate
Except for when I visit sin upon holy ears
Those people keep a power I myself never knew,
Ignorant all these years.
My head journeys through memories of catechism
I pull a breath of smoke and make unholy my actions post facto
It is time for a change of mind
It is time for the clock to alter tempo
Knowing and believing only ever strained my senses
Now brain activity can be low
My every thought that forms and condenses
Can go up in an irreverent smoke…
My heart melts for the drumming of their feet
The pace has sunken