Listening the embers crackle as my cigarette burns out between my lips.

Tasting the sweet tip and subsequent smoke in my mouth.

Watching the black paper burn .
I can not help but to think my life is the same way.
Feels like I am burned out at such a young age.
What have I accomplished ?
What can I accomplish ?
Will my children lead a better life then I?
Or, Be worst off because of me?
Do I help the people I take care of?
Am I a credit to my own ego?
Then I think Do you really love me?
Why do I always push away the people closest to me.

I put out my smoke smelling the sweet inscent like aroma it leaves behind.
Wondering when my fired died.
Did it die with my feeling?
Looking over my bookcase for something the may help give me some insight.
My eyes land on a book of poems one of my internet friends wrote.
I wonder what became of her?
Looking still I move on to me movies perhaps some visual audio entertainment is in order.
Alas like so many things in this times nothing strikes my interest.
So I sit and look at the dark poster on my wall of the Winged Knight.
Anyone who knows me knows of whom I speak.
That’s when it hits me.
Everything I do has an effect.
A goal as it were.
I look down at my first tattoo .
My inked reminder to never give up.
I turn my computer on and boot up my favorite music.
Then I type.
I type what is in my mind and what I feel is left of my heart.
To me it never makes sense.
I have learn that everything does not need to make sense.
It is hard for me to understand that concept.
The way I am wired everything must make sense.
See I just contradicted myself.
Story of my life.
The phone rings and I see your face on the screen.
As I answer I feel my heart beat again.
I grab my cigarette case.
Extracting an ebony smoke (that everyone just now decided are the “it” cigarettes now. Damn Posers lol)
Wishing I could tell you all the things verbally that I so freely type.
Striking a match, listening to the ember of my cancer maker spark to life.
As I feel myself reignited.
Looks like this old man has some time left……


Copyright Juan Bernard @ 2009