Smokey Moons

Cigarette smoke wafts through the sky

Twisting, revealing my painful thoughts

Burning in my head, brushing a constant path

I put a sign up, “no entry”

But I lie, I tell myself I’m not trespassing


That is a lie

I watch as my footprints trace the long beaten road

All the crosses on the side of the highway

Calling my name, begging for forgiveness

I see the moon, staring at me

Why, why?

How many times can one ask that question?


Always wanting an answer, foolishly expecting one

There is never an answer

Only that bleating, repetitive


I’m nice, I’m kind, I’m patient

God it’s so hard

Not god, anyone

Offer relief to this senseless smoking, these cold fingers

You can’t hide this

I watch as others write out their lives, their feelings

Their experiences, etched into the minds of others

Seeking approval, pity

I don’t want that

Acknowledgement is what I seek

The crosses acknowledge my traversing into coyote county

But what of the people?

Another beating heart, lying to themselves

Observing the smoke rings

The dark has been my friend, my enemy

Now it is the moon, watching silently

Stop staring! Please stop staring. Please.

Forgive me for the paths I have written, the paths I have destroyed

In my desire to be a better person

Foolishly I have assimilated to those

Asking why, begging why, crying why

I put out the cigarette in the tears

Relishing in the hiss of being cut short


A good cigarette, gone for temporary relief

It is a funny thing to pity oneself

But not ask for others to join in

I will do this alone

I will face these crosses

I will face you moon

I will destroy those judgments

Sitting still escapes me

Yelling, tearing through my thoughts

Flash, a new cigarette, shining a filthy light

On the filthy path

I can’t stand up but I will try

Curl the toes, gain a grasp as to where I am going

Where am I going?

Silly pondering thoughts

I can not sink into this

This phase of sorrow, self-pity,

Cigarette smoke wafts through the sky

Filters those dirty deeds, those dirty thoughts, that dirty moon

Stop staring

I am normal, nice, patient, understanding

Listening for hours on end to others

Relishing in their desire to be heard and pitied


Unable to contain themselves, to deal with it themselves

It does not earn pity from me, your stories

Rather, I label you, someone incapable of handling their own crosses

I saw three crosses today and I laughed, then I cried, then I knelt to them

I stared, wishing to draw forth stories

What did I do? What have I done? Why have I done this? Why?


One thought on “Smokey Moons

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