Monday, September 20, 2010

Smoking.

Smoking.

eyes stained with last nights red wine open
to the machine gun rat a tat tat of birds fucking at a wet window
a scorched tongue runs slowly across cut lips
a caustic throat coughs
head lolls

sunken eyes stare back at you in a piss soaked bathroom
you spit that black blooded bile of tar and tooth decay
you shouldn't smoke when you're sick but you do it fucking anyway
the glob of phlegm stares back
taunting you from a colgate sink
refusing to move

hot water
you use an ochre coloured index finger
blistered with last nights cancer
to push the congealed mob of marlboro lights down an unwilling sinkhole
cough

flame on you children of the demon weed
mucus is in the eye of the beholder.

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