I inhale my ink-like cigarettes
An addiction that has me on the edge
Like breathing under water
The metaphors fill my lungs
My veins
Blood made of words
Feeding my mind
But no way to say them
Write them
I'm running out of time
Because enough cigarettes can kill
Enough crumpled papers can kill
So much to say
Not enough ink
So I keep smoking
I keep inhaling
Hoping the exhale can
Bring the words
That desperately long to
Escape
And roll off the pen
Onto paper
Roll off my tongue
To hang in the air
So I bring the cigarette
To my lips
Time and time again
Longing for some danger
Some fear
Some regret