I have breathed you in…
Inhaled you in
Drifts and drafts
And mad dizzying spins.
And I have
Sucked you
Deeply into my lungs
Like some nicotine dream
Or herbal retreat…
An opiate from
A madness
That dare not speak
Its name.
I have breathed you in
Inhaled you so deeply
You became
My wind… became
The song
That plays in my brain
And repeats
And repeats
Its soft,
Sly refrain.
I have breathed you in
Like a fine Italian
Wine, and felt
My viscera sigh and
Palpitate…
From the giddiness of
The high. I have
Breathed you in
With both lewd
And angelic
Inhalations.
I have felt my
Corpuscles race and
Stiffen
And glided with
The flutter of
Sightless butterflies, as I
Imagined gardens of
Earthly delights.
Yes, I have breathed you in
Like carbon monoxide
And frankincense
Like roses and toxins
Never knowing if
Your fragrance
Will awaken or kill me
Slowly. I have breathed you
Into my system… and
Made you a part of my
Blood stream's story
And then
Si-i-i-i-i-iighed
Until you became
My prick
Of heroin…
Sliding thru my arteries
And taking me on wings to
The Heights of Heaven. You are
My insanity and my
Adrenaline, personified.
And I have become
A junkie...
Nodding to The High…
Purring to The High
Smiling to The High
While dancing inside
Each time, I close my eyes
To slowly
Deeply
Breathe
You
In…
One.
copyright © 2010 by L.M. Ross
20 comments:
Yea man...you are smoking more than cigs here lol...
Every word resonate with me!
I have often said to myself when I get sick of these cancer sticks,that I'm no different from "Skippy and ray-ray" down on the corner,except I'm a legal junkie.
I don't smoke; however, everyone else in my family does. I grew up in a home where both my parents smoked. I hated the smell. I promised myself that once I left I'd never have to smell it again.
In my own home, I've never allowed anyone to smoke in my home.
By the way, this is an excellent post.
Call me different, but i read so much more in this piece than a romancing the cigarette. Perhaps a metaphor for so much more. Your prose is hauntingly beautiful and has the ability to tranfix and transform. You are a truly gifted brother whose words are magical. Okay, i'll stop here, got to read this again. Dayum if it is a cig, call me Mz Newport, Mz kool, lol...cuz i would want to be thought of in that way.
I'm feeling this piece, and the comments from Miz. Yes, call me Ms. Newport, Ms. Cool!
"...And glided with
The flutter of
Sightless butterflies, as I
Imagined gardens of
Earthly delights."
Lovely!
@ JStar:
Yup. I am a smoker (sigh)... however, the cig serves as a metaphor for other things in this poem
One.
@ Big Mac:
Agreed, bruh. We're all junkies to one substance/behavior/issue or another. I KNEW I was a nicotine junkie the day I headed out in a blinding blizzard to cop some cigs, afraid I wouldn't be able to to survive being snowbound w/out my trusty butts!
One.
@ Reggie:
I have a few friends who don't smoke, & who are such ferocious anti-smoking zealots that we rarely spend much time around each other anymore. Everyone deserves their own space.
It's their loss. Other than lighting up now & then, I give great company.
One.
@ Miz:
oTAY. I'll call you "Different!" You caught on that this poem is about much more than simply lighting up. The title pretty much gives it away. But I'm glad the WRITER in you detected more to it. (smiles)
Thanks for the kind words. ;-)
One.
@ Felicia:
Methinks, it's prolly a writer's thing, that you, like Miz, realized that there was another undercurrent going on behind the words. It's meant have an erotic, seductive appeal, like so many *other things* we find ourselves tempted by.
Glad you liked it. (smiles)
One.
I am the worst kind of non-smoker, I am the ex-smoker. I started smoking very young and smoked very heavy for around 20 years. I couldn't go half an hour without lighting up.
Quit cold turkey 15 years ago. After about 30 days I couldn't stand the smell of them anymore. Just a nasty, nasty habit. That doesn't usually stop me from hanging out with somebody though.
And considering smoking is not the only habit I have given up I definitely saw the undertone in the message of the poem.
Liked this one!
It was hot..
Carey brought me here..
I'm not disappointed..
@ Solomon:
Mad props to you for finding the inner will to quit, cold turkey! Maybe there's something chemical in the brains of former-smokers that leaves them w/ a lower tolerance for the smell of smoke. Good to know you haven't become a serious cig nazi, tho. :-)
Glad you managed to pick up on the undercurrent of the poem.
Thanks for your comments.
Happy Thanksgiving to you & yours!
One.
@2cute4U:
I appreciate the visit. Thanks for stopping by, & please, don't be a stranger!
Happy Thanksgiving to you & yours!
One.
Lin
...we are seduced by so much, but it is nice to remember the sigh.
Beautiful, complex, intriguing and so much more than Good Smoke Mr. Poetry Man...
This is deeper than a cigarette addiction, in fact this could very well be about the thing that lead us to smoke however, cigs have the very same control over us that find comfort in smoking cigs.
@ Teri:
True words, my friend. True DAT! (smiles)
@ Wynn:
Yes, indeed, Wondrous. The poem reads simple enough, but it's most definitely left up to the reader's interpretation to decide its core meaning.
SJ!
One.
@ Chet:
Correct, my brotha! All addictions, no matter what they might be, each one has a common denominator.
One.
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