cultchylde

cigarette smoke is made for curling around words for tearing up eyes and for disguising hurts the slick    serpent   smoke sliding and gliding strangling hope thick and silver circling your head   hiding behind words that mean nothing disguised as something like true emotion when we both know we're just going through the motions like two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl     but you know the rest and we're just pretending like children never-ending     like the story but you know the rest and we hide behind burning cigarettes     like our shields protecting us on the fields of battle this battle is p