Cigawrettes I've Known and Loved is a series of excerpts from cignet users

The desert is a cathedral, silent and vast. I am the lord god, unbound and eternal.

Scattered corpses across my sandal. Under the weight of the big rig.

life is no longer lonely. on the break. in the car. i am always with you

Stinks of sulfur, blood, yet the scent does not carry to the next exit. Like flowers melting as i drive by.

I have given up drinking beer a long time ago (this is the main reason i stop at diners on the road)

as some of you may know...I am on a break from work when I write

I'd always been an Ainslie man. Cools, Reds, Golds, Passports, you name it. But something ain't right in the world. Last time I went to Grunden's they said the shipment hadn't come in yet. Said to try a Zap. Now I won't try that kind of garbage, so I bought myself some Winnsboros

This afternoon i just arrived home. read my mail. Found in an email the first picture of my sweetie. Turned up the television. Turned down the computer.

night gives me pain. work keeps me alive. gallon of black coffee

I found Freedom in a cigarette

stopped in at a diner today and set next to a man called reverend spines

Tune into life's simpler pleasures: a smoke, a coffee, the raw silence of the road.

Hit a bird today. Didn't fly anymore but it's okay. Big rig keeps on rolling.

Had a dream last night of a world without alarm clocks.

windows down. Air of freedom. But even freedom takes a break, maybe for an espresso and a pack of smokes. I dont know. Maybe settle for a Nitro Cold Brew and chicharrones

very god fearing, church everywhere, praise the Lord

In this line of business, one day, you are sure to meet Brother Abernathy. And when that day comes, you best clear your schedule.

Crashed at a motel last night after a long haul. Man sitting in a chair when I walk in the room. Says he's been waiting. Says haven't we all. I'm quick on the trigger. Faster on the pedal. No time for sleep.

Within the grass lies an island of mystic wood, once adorned with golden treasures and crimson beauty. I drive by here often. One day, when work is over, I will enter.

Set next to a man at the diner counter. Asks do I believe in the Lord. Ain’t no difference to me, never seen no yon miracle. Says back we’re just pups in Lord Christ’s living room waiting on him to come back home from errands. That’s a fine metaphor, you some kind of writer. Well

Met me a man at The Big Dog Diner. Said he once ran with crooked cops and cold-blooded murderers. But look at me now, swapping lies over greasy burgers and flat beer.

and when i hear the little songs they play. and i see a monkey in a karate suit. and i see a homeless man reading the bible in front of a great big empty coffee cup.... then i say God, you are one funny man but i dont get the joke

I am lucky to have such good friends. Darryl, Brother Abernathy, Garret, Oso, Reverend Spines, maybe even the Big Mugasta will bring in a dessert from Grunden’s

Met a drifter tonight. Heard tales of far-off places, selling dreams with a man named The Big Mummycush. Dreams ain’t got no place in my world. Petrol to cover miles, justice served neat.

Truck stop diners always got grizzled faces at the counter. Whores the age of their daughters haunt the strip out back. Sister morphine preaches to both.

Night trailing behind me, I roll on, smoke in one hand. Destiny in the other.

The road is a cruel mistress. She takes more than she gives, but I keep coming back.

Rest stop in Tomkinsville, chicken dinner at Rosie's. Whiskey, crimson sunsets, diesel

Sunday. When god said take a break, I said Amen.

Pack of smokes. Big gulp. The violence of the open road

I believe every moment is a chance for redemption I believe there is beauty in the unpredictable I see my life moving in ways I could never imagine the farmer says we shall see I think we will the leaf that falls may rise to heights we will never see. i’m in the kitchen with soda

when the cigarette is lost in the pack. they is cry. sometime come mother. sometime come oso

Brother Abernathy is a man blessed by mendacity. Another round and we preach in the whorehouse: I backstroief forgettin lost until poldkan-slide transt! allelujah they say, allelujah!

Watched a european football game all morning at Hund’s. Men kicking the cover off that ball like it stole something. Later, I will do the same to Darryl. Garrett will take it too far.

Gas station cigarette. I feel alive again

Came across a hitchhiker yesterday, Brother Roadside.

each heartbeat dissects years gone by

If it all gets too much, there’s always another deer to hit, or an 18 wheeler to crash into oblivion.

Perhaps it’s my fate, to chase the outskirts of civilization. Money is a cruel god

Getting out of Ainslie country for a bit. Leave a voicemail if you need me