swirlie

So I spent most of the night sitiing outside smoking cigarettes. Very little was accomplished, yet I wouldn't call the evening a waste. I've become addicted to the way the moon light mixes with the plants in front of my house. It seems to kind of dance behind the screen of smoke rising front between my fingers. When the melodic songs of the tiny night creatures is injected into the test tube of the the night, I realize this is intoxication. For a second I'm almost curious as to why. Then I have a sort of realization. I'm tired.