A cigarette lit,
Smoke drifting up into the rafters.
Burning through the paper,
Reaching for your lips.
A glass set,
Vapours tearing through the ether,
Put slowly to your mouth,
Grasping for your pit.
Your eyes look dead,
Focused and irreverent.
No joy, no love, no life.
What is it you live for?
They ask and they wonder,
Days fall away and answers shudder,
Frosty lies and colder eyes.
Trees falling and flying through an orange sky.
It is not for today they live
Nor for your comfort they speak.
Tomorrow they come,
Today they go.
