Night after night I fight this obsession
With a slow entwining death
that squeezes my chest.
Little by little stealing away
choking.
My air possession.
Dawn after dawn I indulge again.
Add a spark to the flame
that burns my core
numbs my senses.
Sinks it’s tar-black talons
into the flesh of my brain.
Day after day I hasten the final call
tease closer the reaper,
Beckon like a beacon
to the pall.
From dusk to dusk I wish to break
the coil.
That a moth spirals toward a flame.
The constriction of habit
of breathing away
my endless toil.
,,,
3/6l98 – on smoking.