i truly do not no where to begin... i love this, endless reasons

Hello to Eve.

The first truly feminine cigarette- it's almost as pretty as you are.

With pretty filter tip.

Pretty pack.

Rich, yet gentle flavor.

Women have been feminine since Eve.

Now cigarettes are feminine.

Since Eve.

Also with menthol.

boom for real

built for darkness.

built by light.

built with beauty.

built through pain.

built for creation.

built for destruction.

built by memories.

deconstructed by all.

each piece part of a being.

decompressed and decomposed.

still here.

still present.

still the most radiant child.

boom for real.

First "adventures of..." sketches

1964

is it so hard to believe in substance these days.

living a life that values love and thoughts over a monetary value of notes and bills.

to find that one or two or three things that suit your fancy.

those one, two or three things thats value is only denoted by how it makes your heart race and your palms sweat.

you can spend a lifetime lying to yourself.

trying to prove you value them more than anything else.

preaching up and down til your blue in the face about those one, two or three things.

and you know where that will get you?

what it will get you?

i do.

i've been chanting the same lines for longer than i can remember now.

it gets you one thing.

and it is not one of those one, two or three things that glaze your palms or speed your heart.

it gets you fuck-all.

nothing but a sore jaw and blue lips.

and over the years your palms dry and your heart steadies to a slow monotonous beat.

before you know it your down to one or two things that make you clammy.

and faster than you can bat an eye it is down to one.

one single thing.

and with time you'll look around and begin to notice those cracks, those lines digging deeper into your skin.

you feel your bones aching for no apparent reason.

in these times you realize you have a favorite chair.

and that chair it is weathered worse than those bones and that skin of yours.

hurting and cracking more with each passing minute.

slowly falling apart like a monument to unsuccess.

old and failing.

decaying.

and gone.

faded and eroded with that clock of time ticking slowly away.

palms dried up as dry as the sahara.

and your heart pumping nothing but air.

no one.

no two.

no three.