Tobacco Trance

There is smoke-filled coffee haze, there is arguing over Menthol and Marlboro, there is quoting a little Prufrock, a little Yeats, there is a little Dylan, a little Polly.
Sometimes we read plays, and sometimes we play. There are those rare discussions, those rare flashes of wit. Sometimes we are all too insecure, sometimes we curl our lips at other people not-so-different from us.
We got the booz, the weed, the rock-n-roll, the sex, the freedom. We got it all so much, that now we dont know what we want.
I belong to a lost generation. and i have no idea where I'm going. As long as i know i'll have chances to dream and fly. And maybe write poetry at times. Or sing to a tuned-out guitar.
We know we care, yet we cant show it. There is too much of protecting the self from being hurt. Everything is too corny or too lame.
Where is the quest? what are we questing for? As long as we know where the next joint is coming from, the next broken record...the next high and the next dream.
I am the warped mixed up product of an age that believes in Satyajit Ray, communism, consumerism, and John Lennon all at once.

Change? Cholbe na cholbe na...