Smoking Stolen Cigarettes

Her voice still ringing in my head, leaving me reeling like a heavy handed punch from a heavy weight champion as I light another cigarette and inhale the poison.

She said "You left me here."

Yea Ruca, and I left the best part of myself there too. I left behind happiness and love and headed straight for hell.

I fled out of state, a fugitive, with nothing but a pair of worn out jeans, a borrowed long sleeve shirt and an old pair of sneakers on my sockless feet.

The road calls to me, enticingly, telling me "here you'll find peace." It may be only yet another siren song, but It's gotta be better than this. Even hell would be better than this.

My so called "guts" are nothing more than the act of a desperate man, who knows the only way he's going to eat is if he steals the food.

I contemplate suicide as I light another stole Marlboro red. "Hey, Hello" she yelled after me as I took the two cartons from the counter and ran out the door.

Sorry bitch, I need a cigarette.

This is what I've become, a thieving junkie. Am I still everything you ever wanted Ruca? For your sake I hope not, you deserve so much better, and I hope you find it.

Me? my lifes over, I'm just not dead yet.