Writers Jam

I slid my finger into the hem of the box
Pulled through it whilst my thumb held onto the fold
Plenty circles arranged tightly against each other
Barely any space to breathe, but intact, they were

I pulled one out, making them tremble and fall apart
To please my unforsaken dilemma
I placed it carefully, on my crusty lips
I reached for my jean pocket

I draw a miniscule tan lighter
My neck, bent in surrender
One hand shielding the cigarette
Whilst the other set it on fire

My palms heatened
It burned a little
Yet the longing for warmth
Refused to hiss and scream

The smoke, a nomadic
Travelled directionlessly
In a world that seeks certainty
Perhaps this is what i aspire to be

I readily inhaled the smoke
That travelled through my frosty nares
My stiffened shoulders fell
And the frown i carry at all times escaped

I succumbed to gravity
Lowered myself into an asian squat
My bellyrolls nearly ripped my fly apart
I felt suffocated yet never more enlightened

My hand reached out to nothingness
Far from where I sat, elbow rested on creaky knees
The cigarette stood in between my middle and index finger
Its ends slowly burning away

I seemed to have exhaled my mind
That travelled with the smoke
I think of thoughts
And sometimes not

Like in a meditative state
Where i inhale and exhale and inhale and exhale
Almost like a hearty conversation
Son of a ! My finger stung

I sigh in despair
To have exited this psychosis
How nice it was
To detach from reality ugh

I free itself from my hold
It sprung back from the surface
Like an attempt
Towards reconciliation

I stepped on it
Stomped on it
Twisted my feet
From side to side

Until it disintegrates
Blends with soil
For earthworms to snack on
And get high

I came home, drenched
After a warm shower
I lit my jasmine-scented incense
To voluntarily experience grief

It trip and fell on my new red sheets
I tried to pick it up
And it travelled down the mattress
Now, out of reach

I dug through it clumsily
Burned my hand in the process
I palmed my mouth from making noise
It felt as if I had broken a bulb

It was late at night
I wore my thin nails out
Trying to light the lighter
I held it close to my naked leg
My nonevident hairs twisted

I am deserving of punishment
For setting the world on fire