Cigar smoke sailed across the tombstones

Their names faded

Their deaths not apparent

Their lives not easy to discern

but they are dead anyway

but time is not done with them

their tomestones are dirty and worn

and here I sit,

smoking a fat cigar drenched in my spit

the smoke taste good

the dead is still rotting

some of them are just bones

some are not even that

just a stone

one guy has a crypt

and a skull engraved on the stone lid,

partly broken

another guy’s coffin had chains

now rusted and the links scattered in the grass

if he was lucky his heart was pierced before

they buried him

but he still appreciates the smoke

smoke of the dead.

Everything taste a little better

with a drink

I bet 99% of them died sober

poor sods.