Storeys of Ashes
As of recent, I was spending a substantial amount of time in concrete multistorey buildings, standing in balconies and inhaling cigarettes smoke. Then the muse to write came about and this piece was born.
Storeys of concrete walls,
Along which cigarette ashes fall,
Bits of grey crumbling flakes,
From the sticks of a depressive wake.
Along which cigarette ashes fall,
Bits of grey crumbling flakes,
From the sticks of a depressive wake.
A double tap and a flick,
So the ashes fall from that burning stick,
Exhales of emptied toxic smoke,
Nicotine highs for the bunch of blokes.
So the ashes fall from that burning stick,
Exhales of emptied toxic smoke,
Nicotine highs for the bunch of blokes.
Passed a male with too much flare,
Then chuckles echoed the stale air,
There goes the last puff of amberred tobacco,
It's time to go back to putting on a show.
Then chuckles echoed the stale air,
There goes the last puff of amberred tobacco,
It's time to go back to putting on a show.
- SY
20:00H 25th December 2015
Bukit Bandaraya.
SY is a 'Jacqueline of all trades' who loves wearing plaids.
She doesn't believe in things that fade and fulfills the promises that she made.
She seeks the hearts of the troubled, to be a listener in times when things are doubled.
She's the kind who stands in the gap, who will only call it quits when it's a wrap.
She doesn't believe in things that fade and fulfills the promises that she made.
She seeks the hearts of the troubled, to be a listener in times when things are doubled.
She's the kind who stands in the gap, who will only call it quits when it's a wrap.
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