Lungs filled up with smoke.
Nicotine flowing into my bloodstream.
Thousands of cancerous chemicals slowly shut down my bodily functions.
A pack of Marlboro Lights at my side.
Butane lighter in my back pocket.
Two cigarettes faced up for good luck.
A silly little ritual to get me through the day.
A little cigarette to get me through the day.
To calm the nerves.
To wash and filter out the taste of failure from my mouth.
Smoke to be social, to be “cool”, and to rebel against a conformed society.
Realizing you are going to die anyways and just finding something to speed up the process.
A friend on a dark, cold, lonely night.
A guiding light, the burning end of a midnight cigarette.
A sleep aid.
A mind relaxer.
An age old friend.
A pocket burner.
A cancer causer.
The best moment of my day.
The friend in an endless sea of mistrust.
One white filtered cigarette.
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