haskalmighty

So i smoked my last cigarette just now. I went outside with my dog, Cookie, and sat in the middle of the street thinking about BeautifulGirl. It was so dark with the new moon and the cloud cover that the cherry was the only thing i could see, apart from Cookie's occasional wanderings to and fro. I rolled out the cherry and watch it burn to the last. I thought, 'i am this cigarette; even now i am inching that much closer to my exit', then i thought, 'this cigarette is a demon, clutching and clawing with its red fingers to take me back; yet this, too, shall pass'. Cookie thought, 'this is a nice night, and i should piss on this mailbox'.