Light the cigarette
That I’m supposed to have quit
Now suddenly
Dams broken
Words come flowing
Where they had been dried up
Stopped up
Left to rust
Blocked by medication and the
Break
Of ritual

The heat against my face
The swirling smoke around my head
Like the bouncing thoughts
Playing the Devil’s pinball
Behind the squinting eyes
As more lies come out to fly
To turn to birds
And escape the mortal coil
Of moral servitude

Put out the cigarette
That I’m supposed to have quit
Now again
Dams rebuilt
Words dried up
Stopped up
Turned to dust
And ashes
Ending
The same
As
That cigarette

©workingclassproduction.com, 2014