Cigarette embers burning, serving as high beams on a lonely highway. We can use all the light we can get. Eyes burning from the fictional friction of staring at a treadmill turnpike, snaking out way out of Oklahoma, into Kansas, closer to Colorado by the minute. We're chasing a worry free high. 

Maybe god is in the mountains, someone lied to me, he's not in me like they said. He's not in the big eyes of a sad girl, hazel like the horizon. I thought I saw him wink once as the sun rose over my neighbors grey barn. A bitter sweet summer morning as the LSD drove itself out of me and I could feel again my sleeplessness and the pain of losing a God I shared a name with. 

I spent summer wandering, endless and aimless, a vagabond. I slept only in theory. I found solace around the barefooted and broken. The artists of the bad parts of town. Firebenders, Throwing more heat through the already dark humid air around them, A boy with a Jungle voice, a blue girl sings your purpose, it all seems so long ago now…

We moved my patio furniture to the shallow end of my pool that afternoon, sat up to our necks in cool water, to drunk to feel the sun burning our slouching shoulders. I felt like king of rural Oklahoma. The last week I been overloading my sense of right and wrong, til id gone completely numb from moral outrage. Thats when you have to commit to constant, breakneck acceleration. You can't stop even for a moment, or you might remind yourself that you're not a monster, you have a soul. You don't want to let that happen, the whiplash from stomping on the breaks at a full speed? No, it’s too much for most people.

I’m empty now and I need to keep throwing coal into the furnace or it’ll consume me. My grief, my loneliness and my guilt will burn me from the inside until I’m charred throughout. You know sometimes, even hours after my last cigarette, I’ll exhale and see the faint wisp of smoke.