Language of Cigarettes

Do you speak my language?
The language of sense that implants halcyon sentiment into your skin

Do you speak my language?
The language of tied tongue but never says a sea is a mountain

Do you speak my language?
The language of shimmering eyes that always catch the beauty beyond the ugly

Do you speak my language?
My language sounds impudent but only the innocence will understand

Do you speak my language?
My language smells like a flower whitin the morning mist but still, it's cold

One day I laughed in secret the ants told me
I joined to cry of each falling dying leaf of casuarina tree
Caterpillars answered every question I bothered to ask them
Rain answered my praying with its splash

Sometimes I speak the language of my cigarettes,
They say they like it when I smoke but hate it when I blow
Not knowing the tobacco I sipp is always poisoning through my throat,
Lives beneath my lungs

 I ask them why isthe smoke always white
They say it stands for saintliness
Human beings swell smoke too
Colorful smoke for sins and deeds

They ask me why do I smoke
I say I smoke to escape
Escape from every single things I write down on the cigarretes before I light them up
So they won't be useless

And they ask me why do I blow
I say it's exquisite when I blow the smoke
So I show people what does acknowledgment look like

All the sip I've blowen has turned the smoke into a dove
Flies up above