False Reliance

So much depends
Upon
A hazy sickly
Miasma
Wisps of smoke
Coil
Overtop every smothering
Cloud
Pinched, addictive cinders
Smolder
The flavor, the beat
The scent, the thought
They crave it
With false reliance
Slowly, the fuming ribbons
Pervade the vital
Doors and passages
And burn them down
Deluging them
In viscous black
And they still desire more
Depending on it
Further than before