i found salvation in the
molten crown
at the end of a cigarette.
salvation walked barefoot
on its pilgrimage to me
through twenty-one years
of scars—
it walked through my grandmother’s
lungs,
scorching them black,
and through my mother’s
cancerous and toxic
trachea.
it walked through
a thousand anti-tobacco ads,
nondisclosure agreements,
hospital wards,
my father’s own clenched fists,
and soft yellow stains on discarded
funereal vestments.
it found me after all that,
waiting patiently
for a way to **** myself
slowly,
something that mixed well with alcohol,
and would leave me
bitterly satisfied with the semblance
of poetic justice.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
i found salvation in the
molten crown
at the end of a cigarette.
salvation walked barefoot
on its pilgrimage to me
through twenty-one years
of scars—
it walked through my grandmother’s
lungs,
scorching them black,
and through my mother’s
cancerous and toxic
trachea.
it walked through
a thousand anti-tobacco ads,
nondisclosure agreements,
hospital wards,
my father’s own clenched fists,
and soft yellow stains on discarded
funereal vestments.
it found me after all that,
waiting patiently
for a way to **** myself
slowly,
something that mixed well with alcohol,
and would leave me
bitterly satisfied with the semblance
of poetic justice.