Death projected itself from his mouth,
Silently parting his lips in the form of a cigarette,
And I couldn't tell if it was smoke or desire,
that burned my breathless lungs
with a flame-less fire.

And I thought that if he saw me, he would laugh,
Laugh at me under my own duress.
But he caught my stare, and stared back.
James Dean with eyes like thunder
And a smirk that could **** more than his own cigarette.