herbal cigarettes

I wish you could see it

the journals I fill with my words

slowly transforming from new, slick

white pages and clear, definite lines

into worn in and comfotable books

spines that tell tales of coffee spills

top ramen stains

late nights with cups of tea

and an empty stomach

watching the fog rise over a dead valley

writing down whatever comes to me

like trying to soothe a restless child to sleep

I wish you could see it

so you could begin to understand how my mind works

the way that I skip pages

and break my pens

and go through paper like it's candy

its the mania of a person whose found a cure

that only makes her worse

like smoking herbal cigarettes

to salve a nicotine addiction

it may be killing what you meant for it to kill

but its killing you, too

and the cancer of writing

can only spread until it consumes you

and I, the willing victim

drown every day

because I love the high of dying