Lung cancer in a box. Or a stick like thingy. Whatever you wanna call it. It’s the truth. Think before you act retarded enough to start. It’s just like doing drugs or alcohol. Or like when you don’t think about getting those gauges for earrings, sure at the time (when your young) it’s great, makes you look cool right? But 20 years later when your old your ears are going to be jacked up and you’ll regret it and you’ll only have 1 person to blame. Yourself. Don’t Smoke, it’s a JOKE!
these are nasty. they give you cancer. made of tobacco, oil, cleaner, and thousands of other random things. why would anyone use this? to be cool? is it really cool? what is cool anyway? what does cool mean. and do cigaretts really do it for you? or for me? or for anyone? they kill. They steal and they kill. why would you use it? to be cool.
She lit the cigarette, forgeting about her pain. She inhaled deeply letting smoke fill her lungs. She sighed as the sting and burn filled her chest. She then blew out smoke fiercly letting the puff of death pass through her lips. She smiled as she felt the obsession easing. Cigarettes aren’t a nice thing to have when you’re addicted to them. Especially when you have cancer.
it burned slow. like an old man crossing the street with a walker, the light waiting for him. The light has eyes and knows not to change before he’s crossed. How long, 5 minutes to burn one digit.
so i stopped
and the world paused
and i pressed it to my lips
the relief;
if only for a moment
felt enough to last forever
eternity
just you and me
i swear if you let it
we could always be
so much more than
from what the external seems
something way beyond my belief
or anyone elses
its like i just can’t help it
something outside of reality…
Something bad for your body. Clogs your lungs, and arteries. Increases your chances of your children having birth defects. Something I wish people could do less of; All of drugs. I don’t see the point of doing it.
Well, I tried to stop smoking those, because they seem like just a gross, unhealthy habit. Well, they are. But hey, it was something to do while walking, something to do while stressed…. mostly, it was just a self-destructive habit that left no marks, just smells.
I remember writing a poem in my high school, sophomore year, comparing life and cigarettes. I wish I could recall it, better. The little I do recall, however, is what I don’t agree with, today. I can’t compare life and cigarettes, now, even if I tried. They’re not the same.
He smokes cigarettes all the time. People find it absolutely horrid, but I think that the way he inhales and slowly exhales the dirty pollution is somewhat endearing, and kind of a beautiful form of sadistic art.
When i take a drag on my cigarette, i am aware of the health risks and danger. But to be honest, smoking has been the one most consistent thing in my life recently. When i’m sad, angry, alone, stressed, drinking, celebrating…i smoke…
think of a portable grim reaper… his influence fills your lungs and you are now a step closer to dying. and at the same time you killing other people around you. probably the downfall of man, worst invention ever…
My dad smoked cigarettes as I grew up, and I never minded them (I guess I was immune to the smell, at least to an extent.) Now, though, I hate the smell and cannot get used to it. I smell people who have been smoking and it just smells nasty.
Jeffie walked into the 7-11 to buy cigarettes. He wanted the long ones that came in a green box. Menthol’s, but he didn’t know that was what they were called. He just liked green. It was his favorite color.
You smoked under the lamp post slowly, looking around at everything and also at nothing. I was watching the way you exhaled. If I saw you in the street I would never guess you smoked. You look too nice. Then again, I think you do it to look cool. It’s hard to tell, but I think a lot of what you do is to look cool, which took me a long time to figure out. Sometimes I wonder if secretly you don’t like yourself. Sometimes I don’t like you, which makes me nervous. But, knowing that you are doing things to look cool, makes them a lot less…bad…i guess. It’s hard to say. Everything about you is difficult and confusing and obscure. It’s almost as if there are two of you, and it’s strange to think that those two halves belong to the same whole. You’re like a tunnel I’m walking through, and it’s completely dark and I can’t see any light at the end of it. I don’t know what’s coming and it’s equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.
Back under the lamp post, you are finishing your cigarette and flicking it into the street. And this entire time we haven’t said a single thing to each other, but it’s okay. We don’t have to.
You clear your throat and extend your hand. I take it, and we keep walking down the street.
he held the cigarette loosely between two brittle fingers, watching as smoke fizzled out of its end, the ashes falling serenely — there were gray streamers snaking towards the star-filled sky, reaching like outstretched fingers, for something that they would never be able to touch.
the sparking ashes of her cigarette drew a straight line from the dancing inconstant air to her dancing inconstant lips. I hated smokers and swore I’d never date one. For her, I’d break any vow.
ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. i hate cigarettes. i hate the smell. i hate the habit. i hate the addiction. i hate the temptation. i hate how i lost someone who i dearly loved from lung cancer. the cause? smoking cigarettes… :/
Oh no.
I have a problem.
I’ll never forget my first- September of my sophomore year of high school.
It’s been terribly crippling ever since, although one time I did stop for three months and two days.
God I could really use one right about now. I haven’t smoked in forever, and I know that I shouldn’t, but something about it just calms me, it makes me feel like a different person. I don’t know why, but it makes me feel better, older, like I can do anything.
It burned away the uncertainty and provided clarity when confusion threatened to conquer all. That little burst of nicotine offering just enough energy to get her back home and safely to bed, freeing an aching form riddled with sleep deprivation of further efforts
smoke swirls from his lips
rising up to his making them tear up
blinking rapidly he tries to see
focusing intently
on the girl across the room
dancing, twirling, laughing
putting out his cigarette he takes her by the hand
I walked in slowly, thinking about my past. The smell of the cigarettes may be thickening but to me it was all in the adventure. So what my history of failure, today I was going to win, to finally succeed.
Kaitlyn Rae Beshears loves to smoke, and it’s the stupidest thing ever, because he had cancer. I have only smoked one cigarette in my whole life, and I didn’t really like it very much. all I want right now is to clear all of that from my mind. I wasted so much of my time and energy on her.
smoking, the smell, how it tastes in the air. The only point of smoking is to die earlier in life. When I smell the smoke, I just can’t hardly believe that someone would do that. If I was them I would drop the act. Smoking is not cool, it’s not fun. Just because your Aunt Mary does it doesn’t mean you should. I mean whats the point of it.
Aaaah, such a sweet release, such momentary pleasure. Then. .wait, the need has come again? It’s only be 5 fucking minutes,. ..why are you here again, why do i need you, every trigger makes a response, the need for nicotine, what if i learn to control my thoughts on my own, would I even need you?
My dad is my favorite member of my family. He smokes usually a whole pack of cigarettes a day, but it never really bothered me. Smoke is actually quite a comforting smell of me all the time. People generally complain about it, and I smile and nod, or act disgusted as well, but it actually just makes me miss my daddy.
The cigarette butt spews a bevy of cinders as she gives it a harsh blow. The gold and black debris, dances in the clear blue sky, mesmerizing her in its simple beauty. Stained teeth part as she inhales the cloud of smoke, completing the cycle.
It’s important somehow to savor this moment, when all worries have been eschewed. Where things are simple, beautiful even. Tomorrow everything changes. Tomorrow nothing will be beautiful.
Cigarette. what i smoke. what i crave. what gets my morning started. Cigarette. what makes my mother angry when i smoke. what is the receiver of dirty looks.
I’ve always thought they were attractive. It’s slim and it curls into smoke; held by the lips and inhaled with a hard look in the eyes. There’s a steeliness to smoking.
Lung cancer in a box. Or a stick like thingy. Whatever you wanna call it. It’s the truth. Think before you act retarded enough to start. It’s just like doing drugs or alcohol. Or like when you don’t think about getting those gauges for earrings, sure at the time (when your young) it’s great, makes you look cool right? But 20 years later when your old your ears are going to be jacked up and you’ll regret it and you’ll only have 1 person to blame. Yourself. Don’t Smoke, it’s a JOKE!
these are nasty. they give you cancer. made of tobacco, oil, cleaner, and thousands of other random things. why would anyone use this? to be cool? is it really cool? what is cool anyway? what does cool mean. and do cigaretts really do it for you? or for me? or for anyone? they kill. They steal and they kill. why would you use it? to be cool.
She lit the cigarette, forgeting about her pain. She inhaled deeply letting smoke fill her lungs. She sighed as the sting and burn filled her chest. She then blew out smoke fiercly letting the puff of death pass through her lips. She smiled as she felt the obsession easing. Cigarettes aren’t a nice thing to have when you’re addicted to them. Especially when you have cancer.
it burned slow. like an old man crossing the street with a walker, the light waiting for him. The light has eyes and knows not to change before he’s crossed. How long, 5 minutes to burn one digit.
so i stopped
and the world paused
and i pressed it to my lips
the relief;
if only for a moment
felt enough to last forever
eternity
just you and me
i swear if you let it
we could always be
so much more than
from what the external seems
something way beyond my belief
or anyone elses
its like i just can’t help it
something outside of reality…
Something bad for your body. Clogs your lungs, and arteries. Increases your chances of your children having birth defects. Something I wish people could do less of; All of drugs. I don’t see the point of doing it.
Well, I tried to stop smoking those, because they seem like just a gross, unhealthy habit. Well, they are. But hey, it was something to do while walking, something to do while stressed…. mostly, it was just a self-destructive habit that left no marks, just smells.
NOT GOOD FOR YOUR HEALTH
ADDICTIVE
CANCER
DON’T LIKE IT
WHY DO PEOPLE SMOKE
DON’T DO IT
Cigarette smoke lingers on you like some kind of dirty cologne.
My lungs fill with the awful taste and I weeze.
I remember writing a poem in my high school, sophomore year, comparing life and cigarettes. I wish I could recall it, better. The little I do recall, however, is what I don’t agree with, today. I can’t compare life and cigarettes, now, even if I tried. They’re not the same.
ew
He smokes cigarettes all the time. People find it absolutely horrid, but I think that the way he inhales and slowly exhales the dirty pollution is somewhat endearing, and kind of a beautiful form of sadistic art.
When i take a drag on my cigarette, i am aware of the health risks and danger. But to be honest, smoking has been the one most consistent thing in my life recently. When i’m sad, angry, alone, stressed, drinking, celebrating…i smoke…
think of a portable grim reaper… his influence fills your lungs and you are now a step closer to dying. and at the same time you killing other people around you. probably the downfall of man, worst invention ever…
My dad smoked cigarettes as I grew up, and I never minded them (I guess I was immune to the smell, at least to an extent.) Now, though, I hate the smell and cannot get used to it. I smell people who have been smoking and it just smells nasty.
I took in another drag before looking up at her, bright blue eyes gazing up at the smoke that encircled us.
“What’re you thinking about right now?” she asked.
“I can’t.” I told her. “Think, I mean.”
Jeffie walked into the 7-11 to buy cigarettes. He wanted the long ones that came in a green box. Menthol’s, but he didn’t know that was what they were called. He just liked green. It was his favorite color.
Filthy black smoke being inhaled into the lungs, poison spreading, coughing, choking. Taking over, smothering, destroying.
its like a mystery to those who smoke and to those who watch the smokers smoke them; as if they are any diferent than one another…
You smoked under the lamp post slowly, looking around at everything and also at nothing. I was watching the way you exhaled. If I saw you in the street I would never guess you smoked. You look too nice. Then again, I think you do it to look cool. It’s hard to tell, but I think a lot of what you do is to look cool, which took me a long time to figure out. Sometimes I wonder if secretly you don’t like yourself. Sometimes I don’t like you, which makes me nervous. But, knowing that you are doing things to look cool, makes them a lot less…bad…i guess. It’s hard to say. Everything about you is difficult and confusing and obscure. It’s almost as if there are two of you, and it’s strange to think that those two halves belong to the same whole. You’re like a tunnel I’m walking through, and it’s completely dark and I can’t see any light at the end of it. I don’t know what’s coming and it’s equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.
Back under the lamp post, you are finishing your cigarette and flicking it into the street. And this entire time we haven’t said a single thing to each other, but it’s okay. We don’t have to.
You clear your throat and extend your hand. I take it, and we keep walking down the street.
he held the cigarette loosely between two brittle fingers, watching as smoke fizzled out of its end, the ashes falling serenely — there were gray streamers snaking towards the star-filled sky, reaching like outstretched fingers, for something that they would never be able to touch.
the sparking ashes of her cigarette drew a straight line from the dancing inconstant air to her dancing inconstant lips. I hated smokers and swore I’d never date one. For her, I’d break any vow.
.etteragic
ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. i hate cigarettes. i hate the smell. i hate the habit. i hate the addiction. i hate the temptation. i hate how i lost someone who i dearly loved from lung cancer. the cause? smoking cigarettes… :/
Oh no.
I have a problem.
I’ll never forget my first- September of my sophomore year of high school.
It’s been terribly crippling ever since, although one time I did stop for three months and two days.
God I could really use one right about now. I haven’t smoked in forever, and I know that I shouldn’t, but something about it just calms me, it makes me feel like a different person. I don’t know why, but it makes me feel better, older, like I can do anything.
death a horrible exsistant thing need to disappear home wrecker smoke lungs closing can’t breath child deformed kid with asthma sad day
It burned away the uncertainty and provided clarity when confusion threatened to conquer all. That little burst of nicotine offering just enough energy to get her back home and safely to bed, freeing an aching form riddled with sleep deprivation of further efforts
smoke cancer dangerous spensive glamour heavy dislike grose contaminate
smoke swirls from his lips
rising up to his making them tear up
blinking rapidly he tries to see
focusing intently
on the girl across the room
dancing, twirling, laughing
putting out his cigarette he takes her by the hand
the butt grinds into the pavement
embers reduced to gritty black particles
sticking to the bottom of his shoe
I walked in slowly, thinking about my past. The smell of the cigarettes may be thickening but to me it was all in the adventure. So what my history of failure, today I was going to win, to finally succeed.
Kaitlyn Rae Beshears loves to smoke, and it’s the stupidest thing ever, because he had cancer. I have only smoked one cigarette in my whole life, and I didn’t really like it very much. all I want right now is to clear all of that from my mind. I wasted so much of my time and energy on her.
smoking, the smell, how it tastes in the air. The only point of smoking is to die earlier in life. When I smell the smoke, I just can’t hardly believe that someone would do that. If I was them I would drop the act. Smoking is not cool, it’s not fun. Just because your Aunt Mary does it doesn’t mean you should. I mean whats the point of it.
Aaaah, such a sweet release, such momentary pleasure. Then. .wait, the need has come again? It’s only be 5 fucking minutes,. ..why are you here again, why do i need you, every trigger makes a response, the need for nicotine, what if i learn to control my thoughts on my own, would I even need you?
My dad is my favorite member of my family. He smokes usually a whole pack of cigarettes a day, but it never really bothered me. Smoke is actually quite a comforting smell of me all the time. People generally complain about it, and I smile and nod, or act disgusted as well, but it actually just makes me miss my daddy.
The cigarette butt spews a bevy of cinders as she gives it a harsh blow. The gold and black debris, dances in the clear blue sky, mesmerizing her in its simple beauty. Stained teeth part as she inhales the cloud of smoke, completing the cycle.
It’s important somehow to savor this moment, when all worries have been eschewed. Where things are simple, beautiful even. Tomorrow everything changes. Tomorrow nothing will be beautiful.
where do i even begin…. parliament menthol lights please. ugh. only at night time though.
Cigarette. what i smoke. what i crave. what gets my morning started. Cigarette. what makes my mother angry when i smoke. what is the receiver of dirty looks.
I’ve always thought they were attractive. It’s slim and it curls into smoke; held by the lips and inhaled with a hard look in the eyes. There’s a steeliness to smoking.