I'm walking down the street, and I stop for a second and reach in my back packet and pull out my pack of basics. Flipping open the top and pulling out a cig I press it between my lips and flip the zippo and flick the flint that sparks the flame. I stare at the flame, watch it burn for a second then bring the flame to my cigarette and inhale and watch the cherry begin to burn, burn, burn. Flipping the top shut and looking up the mist is at waist height. The haze lingers in the air as if by some chance hiding something laying dead on the ground infront of me.
I pull my cigarette away from my mouth, exhale, then bring it back, inhale.
The sun is rising slowly, but yet more rapidly than ever before. Everything feels like the first time, the day feels like the first light, and I can't explain why. By standing on this street and pressing that flitered mess to my mouth and inhaling its toxic fuel I'm happy, actually happy. Barefoot on the moist dew fucked ground in nothing more than a pair of jeans and a gray tank top simply because i can is the beauty of simplicity. The words of wonder and music of praze raped my brain and tear my mind, but I'm happy.
Happiness is lossing myself in my own brain and letting myself become, in the simplist of all words, mind fuck'd and by non other than myself. My happiness is standing in that dew fucked grass contemplating everything, because I can.
Thats Happiness, beause I can.
Song to Download; Cigarette Smoke by Artic Monkeys
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