I light up another stick.
The pungent taste touches my lips.
Inhaling to fill my soul,
With the aura of days fleeting.
The red ember intensifies with every take,
While the smoke dances,
Enticing with each movement.
Gray smog envelopes me,
Giving me an awkward warmth,
Like hands welcoming an embrace.
Its robust aroma nullifies,
All that is sweet.
Senses moved by each passing of foul air.
Stirring up my sanity,
Testing my endurance.
Deadly it may seem,
As I end another pack.
Yet the relief it gives is rare.
With every hit, a temporary utopia awakens,
Giving freedom from troubles,
Gladness, unavailable from mortal sympathy,
New life to replace the old.
So grant me another chance,
To soothe thy being.
It may be my last.
- Rasui Akira
written on January 6, 2006 – 12:06 AM
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