“What is your necklace?”
Maria asks.
Such a loaded question,

for it is not a necklace at all.
It is a demon,
and I am possessed.

Fruit flavors tickle
my damaged taste buds;
nicotine still breaking through.

Constantly nauseous;
choking on the taste
of burnt cotton…

I cannot breathe
without this noose–
heavy around my neck.