A cycle ran past him. Then came a car. He wondered who sat in the car. She always wanted that car. He wanted that cigarette.
Sitting in his room that was clouded by the rings of smoke. His eyes red with exhaustion and that speaker in his ears. The others weren't any help as well. Eddie Vedder was ledbettering. A day of fears had just passed, his head was not here, neither was it there. He got that cigarette, the last bit of it. Pressing it between his fingers as he finally got that heat from the burning tip to his lips. The smoke stung his throat but he got his last puff. A bucket of ash and chicken bones waited in solitude at a corner. Aimed to the edge, the butt bounces and dances and finally falls to the oblivion. Whiskey was waiting for him too,he chose to stay sane.
His friends were leaving one after one, a girl has been dumped, a bird has just died. She hasn't been seen ever since. She flew south one day for the winters and never chose to come back.
The cigarettes can't seem to end. His worries somehow do.
He aimed at the skies
He never really got high.
He was blue and yellow
He chose to stay mellow