Lit

Another cigarette borken in half in my pocket.  There is the essence of quitting filling my mind and heart.  The thought to smoke it becomes irrelevant and misunderstood by the second.  The smell of ingredients and the taste is a mystery. Then the next day another and another.  All the time I was wondering if cigarettes were quitting me or was it going to be the other way around.  The smell is every where smoke fills the room daily.

There isn't a single person to trust you just do it. And either way the world was flashing good things so then you get nothing done in doubt the inevitable doubt which swings the door both ways while as trust it is comes then it goes.  

So faith becomes a pendulum that flows through the fun and the fun block.   All day we think we're young and old.  Then there is a mystery of clarity that is taken from us too much easier without stamina.  Then there is the advice given without beings taken.

There isn't anywhere to go when your not going anywhere.  Week after week the tools, skills, and practice blows all around the logic in the room.