Preamble

This is the story of the time I fell asleep an enthusiastic, smoke puffing, nicotine, journeyman.
Big tobaccos perfect tragedy - I would sleep with lighters in each pocket.
Ciggies in hand. Ready to burn it all again.

I'll keep it brief! I awoke with an almost immediate understanding
I had been released from the Marlboro Ice Blast prison.
I was a free man. It is a miracle.

As the morning unfolded I started having a scattered but overwhelming feeling I got my arse kicked last night.
Being tossed hard onto the floorboards during the night. It remember feeling winded.
I knew the best thing to do was to suppress the memory right away.

However, freedom found was a fleeting moment.
Before long, I quickly became enslaved to painting these smoking ducks.
Jokes on me I guess. Careful what you wish for.

I haven't smoked since. I'm fine with this arrangement.

Exhausted victories. Rested ghosts. Surviving truths.