Obnoxious smoker, you put the cough in cacophony,
but you're generous, I can't deny what you offer me.
Sun dried and trapped within self fulfilling prophecy.

I trust you barely as far, as I can throw you up.
Big surprise, it didn't make past the teeth or tongue.
Sear the throat, scabs coat esophagus,
Which shade, of sweat, will stink enough?

© Cole Silvers