my cigarette is burning, and then snow is ice,
the world is turning itching with lice.
with a rumble and scurry out go the lights
capturing the days in unyielding nights.

my lungs contract suffering in toxic prayer
wisps of thin vapor make shapes of air;
like a cold touch lifting the flesh from your heart
this apt villain conceals its rending art.

through guise of pleasure this vice ensnares
a feeling laced with pleasure and none compare,
and into death I will follow the twiney smoke
for it pulses my body with a lovers stroke.