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DreamSailorPoems
I think that maybe I might start smoking. *It will **** you* they'll say Lips locked with death. I draw in the smoke dancing through black desperate lungs. A disgusting habit they'll tell me. But they have it all wrong. It's not a habit. It's a conscious decision. A slow suicide. *It will **** you* they will tell me. The flicking of ashes to the ground. rubbing out of dying glowing embers. That's the point I'll reply.
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Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC
Ashes to Ashes
I think that maybe I might start smoking. *It will **** you* they'll say Lips locked with death. I draw in the smoke dancing through black desperate lungs. A disgusting habit they'll tell me. But they have it all wrong. It's not a habit. It's a conscious decision. A slow suicide. *It will **** you* they will tell me. The flicking of ashes to the ground. rubbing out of dying glowing embers. That's the point I'll reply.
Disclaimer: I am not a smoker nor am I suicidal. This is a perspective poem of the subconscious desire to die behind the conscious decision to start smoking.
#ashes#suicide#smoke
DreamSailor
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DreamSailor
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC
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