and all the cigarettes I smoke
won't help me forget
the hunger and sickness of my soul

all the broken air won't swallow up
the darkness I face or
the way I live and numb cold

of night and ice or how I dream
of death's sweet chill
I know it already inhabits me

all the blood and tar and hollow veins
can't drain me dry enough
and stop me wishing I was free

*© Tara India.