An agile flick of the right thumb; ashes descend like snow. Puff the small gray warm cloud slower.
Cold yellow froth requires a taste for substance abuse whenever it’s deemed socially acceptable.
The ember end sloths nearer and slips silently on to the middle finger, an instant of pain seizing the pink skin.
Small talk, smaller jokes, worse insinuations and a façade of transparency, like discovering a window to be a mirror.
The material sensation transcends nostalgically to the appeal that only comes from a second of nicotine relief surrounded by a minute of burning deep breaths.
It’s easy to believe they are close until proximity means nothing and connection can’t require this much effort to convince itself it’s real.
Miles cascade between belief and actuality. Supposing everything and understanding nothing. Hope shrouds the actual and idealizes moments you’ve never asked about.
A brisk walk outside has fog descending from you , this is crisp and clear but burns cold. Not seeking to muck the mind and leave reality behind, instead searching to touch the tangible and wonder at it.
Black virtual ink stains the screen , spins perception. Clarity sings and the truth darkens the eyes and penetrates the skin. Crawling, rolling, spiraling out of your control reality claims the peace you claimed to have obtained in mind, body, and soul.
Connection is questioned, peace forsaken, black found white wanting. The smiling can only be painted as fools. Despair is found to be the most true thing. Heartache and empathy are found to be well suited.
Trying to escape from the cave before, now clawing at the light.