smoke

bitterness.

wispy white tendrils of smoke from a
cigarette of self-doubt--
i'd have my head in the clouds
if there were any.

if the wind is just right,
and if you listen real hard,
you can hear the alarms
sounding behind my eyes.
my pupils sanctifying and stigmatizing,
this feels like some kind of necessary retribution.

necessary retribution?
i've got nothing to prove.
this smoke i'm choking on--
it's killing because of you.