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Lift it to your lips & let what falls adrift in the form of ash dissolve in the wind as dried bone thrashing, bashing against dust & grit. Pull; take a long hit. Dregs to be kept until last in the bottom of your broken lungs, taken as deep as breaths: to rattle against your teeth. "O", takes the lewd shape of your chapped mouth as you break free from your caged-in chest, skeletons left sat, to wallow as ashen bones & yellow teeth. Hold your knuckled joints against tenderest flesh of your upper lip & sniff, as if a try to void all signs of violent backslides to clandestine nicotine meetings. Flick blanked eyes to lit but dying embers ground between sole & soil, & morosely swear never another, not one more; after this next one, this last one, never.
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Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 5:35 AM UTC
5. On Quitting & Other Confessions
Lift it to your lips & let what falls adrift in the form of ash dissolve in the wind as dried bone thrashing, bashing against dust & grit. Pull; take a long hit. Dregs to be kept until last in the bottom of your broken lungs, taken as deep as breaths: to rattle against your teeth. "O", takes the lewd shape of your chapped mouth as you break free from your caged-in chest, skeletons left sat, to wallow as ashen bones & yellow teeth. Hold your knuckled joints against tenderest flesh of your upper lip & sniff, as if a try to void all signs of violent backslides to clandestine nicotine meetings. Flick blanked eyes to lit but dying embers ground between sole & soil, & morosely swear never another, not one more; after this next one, this last one, never.
lyra-o
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Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 5:35 AM UTC
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