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as kids we used to go out in the cold holding pretzels between our fingers and pretend our frozen breath was smoke *(funny how kids grow up)* we rang in this new year with a half gallon of last year's apple cider just turnt enough to bite and fizz half glasses of questionable mango juice mixed with a stranger's thick cream *** and a full season of mash but after this year i know suicide is not painless *(it burns and stings chokes and screams leaves friends crying at five a.m.)* stood on some kitchen steps cat-scratched hands red from hot dishwater and icy air stomping cold feet *(the plan is to get me addicted for just a couple years while you *** them off me until i prove i'm strong enough to quit)* and you held out the zippo lighter you got for christmas i handed you a cigarette and you held it between your fingers and tapped away the ashes like richard dawson would *(there's something poetic about historical self destruction)* it burned my lungs enough that i coughed but then again it felt right natural like we had been practicing for this new year all our lives.
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Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 9:17 PM UTC
painless
as kids we used to go out in the cold holding pretzels between our fingers and pretend our frozen breath was smoke *(funny how kids grow up)* we rang in this new year with a half gallon of last year's apple cider just turnt enough to bite and fizz half glasses of questionable mango juice mixed with a stranger's thick cream *** and a full season of mash but after this year i know suicide is not painless *(it burns and stings chokes and screams leaves friends crying at five a.m.)* stood on some kitchen steps cat-scratched hands red from hot dishwater and icy air stomping cold feet *(the plan is to get me addicted for just a couple years while you *** them off me until i prove i'm strong enough to quit)* and you held out the zippo lighter you got for christmas i handed you a cigarette and you held it between your fingers and tapped away the ashes like richard dawson would *(there's something poetic about historical self destruction)* it burned my lungs enough that i coughed but then again it felt right natural like we had been practicing for this new year all our lives.
Copyright 1/9/16 by B. E. McComb happy new year
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Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 9:17 PM UTC
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