Up-jumped on half a dozen cigarettes
One for each good deed I’ve done today
Can you see my head held high?
Though not too high perhaps
The sun’s too high
So is the guy walking next to me
Me? I need sunglasses
Cheap reflectors picked up this morning
From the college bookstore
Speaking of books
I need to reread “regeneration”
It’s a gem of a book
One that I’d like to have written myself
Is that how you know what’s a great book?
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to write like that
Not today, not tomorrow, not for ever
I’m stuck writing half-poems like this one
That starts no where and goes no where
Little stationary things
Minute in the grand scheme of things
There I go with the cliches again
I can’t even spell cliches right.
Never figured out the shortcut for the accent
I should have a long long time ago
But then there’s a lot of things
I should have done long
Perhaps I shouldn’t have eaten that ice cream
Or eaten that pizza
Or eaten that day old bit of left over pasta
Or eaten anything, period
I can seem some belly fat
Though my friends swear I’m still skinny AF
There I’ve done it
I’ve used SLANG in here
If only my 17 year old self could see me
He would run screaming away
And rat me out to my parents
What a little snitch that guy was
I feel like I’d punch him if we met now
Or I’d call him out on his worst
But aren’t those insecurities also mine
17 year old me hasn’t progressed much
He’s simply driven up the intensity
Kicked into high gear
I need to get a driver’s license here
Then I won’t have to carry my stupid
Passport to bars
Bouncers should just take my SL license
It’s in English for crying out
Not some obscure, arcane language
But it might as well be
Kind of like this poem
Which is befuddling me more and more
By the minute
Ugh by brain hurts from all
Is it cold out? There’s a snow storm looming
It’s not cold. I think I need to go out
Yep, that’s what I’ll do
I’ll go out for a cig
And come back in and finish this
God awful truth-retch
Speaking of truth-retch
I wish he honestly just told us what’s wrong,
In at least one emoji.
Colorless Penguin, colorless penguin
decolor yourself no more
there, 17 year old Senura, am I finally profound enough
You take a cigarette, long and thin, from the pack of Marlboro menthols
That I bought two days ago.
You hold it up between your fingers,
My cruel addiction to the little soldiers of death
Marching silently in the cold white carton.
You found my pack a few hours ago
Dropped accidentally by the pool
Where we spent a hazy island summer’s day burning
Our colors and skins
You picked up the miniature coffin
And looked inside
Seeing it was almost new
You pocketed the thing.
You look to me now with your big brown eyes
Hair blowing across your forehead in the strong
You ask for a light with your mouth clamped shut
Against the light brown filter tip
And wait for me to kill you too
But see this cigarette?
This cigarette treats us differently.
We are not equal in its cold, cruel eyes.
I am an old friend of its.
I know every groove and fold it holds,
I know ever letter printed boldly on the carton’s back
Admonishing and daring me
But you know nothing.
You know nothing of the power it holds
Or the power it grants
You know absolutely nothing of the sentence you’re taking up
Or the life you will live
Victim to its strength
Culprit of your self-crime.
This cigarette treats you different
And this cigarette does not become you.
Give me the pack
And the death sentence you hold so tightly between your lips
For you, for you who found me among the lost and found
For you who returned me home
I would gladly bear the world
Or bite the proverbial bullet.
I would gladly inhale my lungs full of tar and nicotine
If it means saving a life.
If it means saving your life.
I stopped loving him today
His innocence which hurt me
His skewed glasses
And the smiles he flashed
Why not yesterday?
Or three weeks ago when you were up at 4.30 AM
Drinking and smoking your life away?
And dancing your soul down?
But today is what matters
Because today you choose to finally let go
You can throw the glass against the wall
And watch the Fireball dripping down the cracks
You can fling away the pack of smokes
And burn the Marlboro Menthols you bought weeks ago
Down to a crisp
Because today marks your first day
Off the dating app you’ve been addicted to
Off the seedy streets, the sketchy parties
Off the booze and the smokes
Off the faceless girls and guys
Today marks the day
Like X marks the spot
On your meandering map of a life
Today’s the day, I can feel it in my throbbing veins
Today’s the day I give it all up
I stopped loving him today
I’ve slipped. Inevitable of course but there it is. This post is a day late. Well.
This Tanka was inspired by “Holocene” by Bon Iver which is quite possibly one of the best songs I’ve ever heard. Ever. And its music video is just so…fitting.
I enclose the link below: Holocene – Bon Iver
I wrote this in a hurry.
I wrote this in the dead of night.
I wrote this. Just because.
Number 5. I’ve proven myself surprisingly committed to this. Which is good.
This was inspired by a song:
“All Time High” by The Sam Willows
And this one person this past year that showed me what it’s like to let go a little and jump in. A person I thought I’d never see in the light of day or meet or even like. But I did and it’s been good.
And because I met them, I’m a little different too.