Local

i dont really feel it
not yet at least. that kind of physical addiction or craving.
i think they’re different though.
one sounds like fun (i know its not..)
the other one’s just torture.
but theres something. its not a craving
its more like something i’ll miss. i feel it everytime
everytime i go long periods without.
(a long period to me is only a week)
but its this feeling.
especially during quiet times. where the air is pretty still. the weather’s cold or at least not hot.
especially around sunset or in the very early morning when its cold.
but just sitting there  blowing out. watching the smoke trail and curl
and twist around. (or just blow in my face)
i can just dream and think
about stories, art, music, more art, my future, someone i love.
and theres this wierd sadness. sadness i actually enjoy
its like that one story i forgot the title to. oops.
beauty in your own self destruction.
i’m going out again today. to my favorite spot on that hill. sitting on that fence.
at my favorite time of day
and i’ll have a smoke
i just want to think about where my life’s going.
about these last 10 days in this city. college.
friends. art, ideas
lots of things