You brought me here again.
Again without my choosing.
A cigarette on the floor. The tip glows blue.
Ahead the outline of a trees.
Blue, everything.
But so dull compared to when I pick you up.
The scent, nothing else besides this breath matters. Every moment my lungs ignite without you.
Inhale.
The tip glows brighter.
Exhale.
The smoke runs forward. It glows against every contour of every leaf. Stone melts and ponds boil.
I inhale again. No particle of smoke remains.
Continue and continue, on and on.
Each breath pulling in more color through the cigarette into me.
This lust, this need, this wanting.
This scent, this taste that swirls and drills into my tongue.
You're too good to be purity.
Leafs pale into white.
Trunks into ceramic black.
The forest is disappearing without me realizing it. Without me caring.
You don't burn. You don't do anything anymore besides glow in my sight.
Do these feet dig into the earth? I can't move.
There is no me anymore.
An extension of you.
Obsession.
I don't know you. I don't need you. Why did you appear?
This is absolutely amazing. The description of the forest being filled and destroyed with smoke is beautiful, and the colors are really working for you. I'd love to read more of your work.
Only thing I'm a little confused about it the cigarrette laying in the floor in the beginning. I got the impression that the cigarrette had already been used and you were about to stomp it out or something, but then you apparently start smoking with it. It's a pretty minor detail, maybe just add a sentence about you picking it up?
Sorry, I made a mistake. My bad.
Anyway, this poem rocks
That was the earliest part of the dream. Since I don't smoke I'm curious why and how it showed up too.