Name: Don Rafa Churchill
Country: Nicaragua
Shape: Parejo
Size: Churchill (7 inches x 50)
Strength: Medium
I woke up with a hangover,
ready to work on another hangover.
I am like a Sisyphus whose bottle refills
every time it is emptied.
This is my life, then.
This is where I am now.
Madness cannot be very far from here.
You can see that in my sunken eyes —
how exhausted I am!
And burned out. And bored out.
In between hangovers, there is some
suffering
and a lot of drinking.
In between hangovers, there is the life
that I never wanted… except
the love story that’s being written.
I smoke cigars, too, when I drink.
Most of the times, the cheapest cigars I can find.
Sometimes,
cigars that burn like Shakespeare’s plays in a fireplace.
And you can smell the fire in my beard
and all the verses I have burned
under the open sky.
When I drink, I like to have a pen
and a notebook in close proximity, too.
But I see how this may mislead the onlooker.
You must never mistake me for a poet
even if you see me scribble
and spit out words like active volcanoes spit out lava.
Where I come from, poems give birth to themselves.
The poet is the drunkard who happens to be there when that happens.
Where I come from, the poet has not mastered the language.
On the contrary, he has given up on language;
he merely uses it out of boredom,
distorts it, abuses it…
Where I come from, the poem is only read by the poet
who will forget
everything.
In the morning, nothing will exist but a hangover
that means nothing at all.
[…] because their cigars are affordable and good. Plus, they remind me of good times. I smoked a lot of Don Rafa Churchills with the boys last summer. I was burning two or three cigars a day back then. Drinking a lot, […]
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