i light up a cigarette and watch the smoke take shapes
they disappear into the twilight, completely dark,
except for the ghostly glow of the embers,
blazing in the black emptiness.
my breath turns to fire and my veins to ice
my heart pounds violently against its ribcage prison,
proving that, despite the cancer stick between my
chapped lips, i am (unfortunately) alive.
with every drag, reality melts into fantasy
and with every burning inhale,
i fall further and further
into the universe of my creation.
here, there is no emotion, no feeling,
no colour, no words, no existence
and that’s the way i like it.