In the midnight hour, dreams are no respite, your pillow feels like a bag of bricks and the heat is overwhelming.

So you light a cigarette, and you walk out the back exit.

Leaning against the brick wall you feel more comfort than you did in your bed.

Its an Herculean effort, to try and remember the way you felt in your youth. You felt invincible, you were filled with dreams and you had a clear picture of the man you would be.

Time changes those visuals and destroys too much of who we thought we were.

The cigarette in his hand only lasts so long and then it’s back to the bag of bricks. The final ash drops to the ground.

He throws the cigarette and steps on it. Runs his hand through his hair and walks inside.

It’s around 4 in the morning and he wakes up from a bad dream, he feels his heart pounding and he is sweating.

“I need to sleep to go to work tomorrow… Another lost cause in a life filled with lost causes.”

Giving up on sleep he showers and puts on shorts. He walks to the kitchen and boils water for coffee.

“Just another day…” He says as he lights up another cigarette. He watches as the smoke rises up and disappears. He thinks about his dream and it’s so unclear. It was strong enough to scare him but not strong enough to remember. Like the cigarette killing me slowly, the smoke and the dreams simply show up and then leave, leaving scars and death for the ones who smoke and who dare to dream.

Cigarette smoke like dreams…