about cigarettes

The thing about cigarettes is they burn going in. Down my throat. Into my lungs. Killing me. Slowly. So I have time to savor that on last drag. Before the chemicals take over my body and blood. Comforting me, relaxing me to death. And maybe I'm inhaling all wrong. Like a rookie that thinks they're pro, but goddamn I enjoy it. I enjoy every sweet menthol breath that I pull into my lungs and savor. I feel the heat between my fingers and the crossbones between my lips but I disregard the danger I hold in my lungs.  Like that quote from the book, you smoke for comfort, you smoke to be cool, I smoke to die.