My teeth are going to shatter,
But it doesn’t matter
The smoke enters my mouth,
Coating my lungs,
Scraping the membranes off of my tongue.
I don’t sing…I sung
Before cigarette’s won.
When I think about em I think “Give me one, please.”
“Don’t Mutherfuckin’ tease.”
“Get on your mutherfuckin’ knees!”
I know it,
Cause I ho it.
I can’t breathe when I take a hit
and I can’t breathe when I don’t, shit.
The feeling remits, my jaw muscles feel like a muzzle
The reason I quit becomes a puzzle
Cause speed down two weeks and I’m like an infant with a special gift
Right about now I could be Phillip Morris’s number one missionary,
pick a word in the dictionary and I’ll justify why my brain activity
looks like a chunk of Italy or a piece of Swiss cheese
as I nicotease my cilia without remorse.
I will quit, of course,
But I will always be smoking in my head.
A writer living in Portland, OR looking to meet Chuck Palahniuk. Single mom to 2 boys, sales agent and lawyer-in-training.