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Rated: 13+ · Prose · Dark · #1931660
those damn cigarettes.
One end glows with a fiery luminescence
  the other moist like it has met your lips one-hundred times before
The rush should hold you together
  until you feel its comfort nary a second more

Yet those moments are painfully short-lived
  until the next necrotic thoughts creep their way into the crevices of your cerebellum
Indulge once, a thousand times more
  We are all slaves to our id
© Copyright 2013 chaz claxton (zstuard at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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