deepundergroundpoetry.com

the only thing I found at the end of the cigarette was more lies

It’s never a good thing
when I start the day with a cigarette
considering I quit over a year ago

I blame my inability to cope with stress
in a way that doesn’t involve
lining my lungs with tar
when family beckons

These are the days of messages
and phone calls that never seem to end
these are the days I considering
changing my number again
and she’s not even my stalker
(this time)
just a crazy girl wanting me in
on her plot to destroy some worlds

He’s the object of her intentions
the object of her affection
he’s just an object
like a statue you can fuck
like a statue who can punch you back
when you threatening his ability to move
with freedom

He’s going to prison
he’s not going to prison
life is an adventure and he’s trapped
on the inside of his own head

And I never took the time
to sought through the lies
because both sides can’t keep a straight story
and his blood bleeds thicker
than her water
and truth be told
I’m not immune to his tears

It’s never a good thing
when I start the day with a cigarette
considering I quit over a year ago

The court house looms large
and I’m full of the cliché kind of advice
no one takes when they’re crazy
and I witness a domestic violent application
that’ll never make it to her door step
because an hour later he’s back in her bed
after claiming to love some other girl

And the story just gets weirder…

© Indie Adams 2014
Indie
Written by Indie (Miss Indie)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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