&.&


the scent of tobacco that wafts through the air down to the corridor‚ hinting a bitter-sweet aroma to whoever passes by. the urge to savor the fragrance the strong desire to feel the smoke around your body pushes you to crave for more. as you touch the length of the pipe you use to burn a tobacco‚ you feel the smooth and elegant engraved designs to make it more outstanding among the others; the impeccable alacrity of desperation are showing in your face–a pejorative travesty of ignorance‚ that’s understandable because the desire of being unique are burning to your inside.

the taste of the vapor inside your lungs when you inhale the pipe brings a animosity fragments of your nightmare‚ the more you intake‚ the more you savor the taste of your longing desire. while you hear the tiny voices inside your head‚ urging your inner self to not let your self cessation—addicted to the taste of tobacco‚ you heard nothing but only the thing you always wanted.

you vanished like a light that struck me‚ the scent of your remains into the corner where i sat—looking down‚ having a pair of dark circles in my eyes‚ i feel like i lost my life. i smiled bitterly and and breath heavily until i said that...

“ah.....the smoke of my tobacco aren’t the same as before”

dedicated to murphy