I watch the smoke drift lazily there

In the crisp morning air

While I wonder what it is I do

For what reason do I care?

Is it just that simple need to breathe that I decide to heed?

No, my habit speaks for something more as I search that smoke foolishly

Search it for a sign, a self inspired meaning that I do the right thing

That I do more than survive and exist between each breath

I sign that I did more than just simply survive until one day I didn’t

Until the foretold death that all must know and will eventually be met

No I want something more, something larger than my own sum of existence to give meaning to each breath

So I court that folly, that friend, that foretold death

I invite it in with a match a flare a ritual habit to prove in a way to be more than existence and instincts

To be less, for each breath to mean less only a sign I’m closer to death

Well that would be unacceptable, it would make it all meaningless

So each one I take means more and more instead a struggle for life for meaning even if there is none in the end

To do anything else is to court despair and that, that is one habit for which I will never care.


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