#1
I know it's not strictly lyrics or poetry, but this is the best place for crit. Hope you enjoy.


It had been months since I tried to stop. 'Cold turkey' had hit me like a freight train, but I had vowed to myself that I would end it. It wasn't the addiction, it wasn't my weak mind failing it's last defiant mission, it was like a calling, just then, I felt like it needed me. I'd dragged my heavy carcass through the room, everything was buzzing with excitement and I just wanted to get out, into the calm. The cold air choked me, and gripped my body in a vice, scraping my lungs as I inhaled. December has such a way of playing with your senses. The freezing air filled my throat, alcohol scorched and subjected to what felt like shards of ice, it was sheer agony. The pain was worth it, the oxygen now circulating my veins fed my brain some much needed energy, and for the first time all night, I could see clearly. I fumbled in my pocket for the ciggarette box my friends had bought for me on holiday, engraved with all of our initials. It had unified us back then, to have a common interest, even of it was just smoking, we ruled the world back then.
Alone now, I dragged the small bag from the pocket-warm case, I thought about last June, when you and I had first smoked together in the park. I'd only bought tobacco that day because I thought you would need someone to smoke with, I never thought it would ever turn out so perfect. I guess I'd found something to break the ice that had been stopping me before, a common desire. With the sun blinding my eyes, reducing them to nothing more than two squinting, searching specks, you appeared to me in only black and white, but the colour was still somehow present in the way you moved, elegant and beautifully. It felt so good back then to take time to sit around with you, and to taste that fire on my tongue, to feel it burning it's way through my body. I would just lay there, admiring our smoke clouds, watching them become one, minutes becoming hours, and hours becoming a summer. .
I dragged my eyes open, and my mind back to the task at hand. With a careful, fixed gaze, and with the trained fingers of what could be a surgeon, I rolled, and touched the edge of the skin with my tongue, using scraps of whatever I could scavenge as roach. I lifted it to my mouth, and pressed it earnestly to my mouth. I frisked myself hurriedly, feeling the same desperation that hadn't tortured me in what felt like a lifetime. I'd almost forgotten how it felt, it came as a surprise, I'd just realised how much I was depending on the gram of anxiety relief that lay in the paper held tight between my lips, and how eagerly I was awaiting the numbing that was to come with it. I shrugged it off, I knew I had it. I came across the lighter in a back pocket I'd overlooked, and a wave of calm swept over me. As I flicked the lid, the newborn light danced its way around my dull, damp surroundings, before being trapped by a discarded scratchcard, broken glass, and the leftovers of countless others before me. It was an unremarkable place, forgotten, and rather undeserving of light. As the flame hit paper, I inhaled, and the smell of burning filled my nose while the smoke struck the back of my lungs, and it felt like nothing I had experienced in a very, very long time. The warmth that came with it encompassed my body, it was beautiful, sensual even. It was as if the entire burden of weight was lifted from me for one glorious moment, the pleasure permeating through every pore in me, all the way to my heels and back again. I was transported once again to the cloud beneath the treetops that was you and I. In some kind of symbiotic confusion we lay there, laughing, both of us intoxicated by the other, not knowing why we hadn't been together before, it was perfect. You, were perfect . .
The metal grew warm in my hand, I'd cleary been dreaming again. Flicking it closed, I replaced it in my pocket, and wondered why I had ever stopped. It was almost like having every sense in my body heightened, and being inside a dazzling display of light and freedom. It had really taken me over now, the familiar numbing, it made me feel almost normal, but better than normal, stronger, painless, perfect. I moved, so slowly, watching every footstep, feeling every muscle in my body doing its part and loving it, relishing in it. I saw, as the thoughts circling my brain were created, watched them pass through my mind and being chased off into the distance by another. It amused me to see them playing, why shouldn't they, they were nothing but children after all. . The walk to the back of the bar felt like an age, it probably fell shy of a minute, but my legs felt like sandbags, my knees uncooperative. I rested myself on the nearest wall, feeling the weight slip from myself, my eyes low, my mouth poised in a smile. I giggled, not that I knew why, but with it my eyes slipped closed. I knew I had to leave, I couldn't stay here, but something told me I'd be ok. Nothing could touch me now, you were with me, my oldest friend, coursing through my blood, dancing delicately along my bones, brushing my fingertips with intricate footsteps. You, are something truly euphoric, my light, my dark, my everything.