As He Smokes is a poem written by Reuben Abrogar and shared with The Ugly Writers under the theme Stop, Look, and Listen for the month of May
As He Smokes
His hands are shaking, his breath reeks of nicotine
His palms wet with every puff of smoke
Maybe it’s time, he said to forgive and forget and forget and forget wait a minute.
Maybe it’s time he said as he walks and let the air breeze through his jacket
He downs another dose of anti-psychotic, maybe it’s moronic
He doesn’t care, all he remembers are the night terrors, the way he screams and dreams and how he’s reminded him of his errors
This is hell, he said. Madness, anxiety and depression becoming best buddies to give and live as a living hell
“It’s not your fault” they said, but maybe it is?
Don’t we all blame ourselves with what we’ve done? We’ve sunk a new low and all I desire is a blow-or-job? Blow job? Blow this job
He fights everyday, with medicine in hand and coffee on the other
He fights everyday but to die for a year is to respawn in another
He said don’t kill yourself, he said, don’t kill yourself, don’t, kill yourself
“Am I crazy?” He asked himself every single night
He tries to assure himself that he’s not but he can’t, all evening he cries himself to sleep asking why was he too much of a good thing and too terrible for a bad thing
What outweighs the life he has lived, all he craves for is forgiveness.
Forgiveness from himself
Because he knows he can’t take more nights like this, he can only pretend for so long
Before things fall apart
As he smokes.
Read more from Reuben Abrogar by reading his previous entries at The Ugly Writers.