A Bent Addiction.
Updated on January 2, 2010
A Bent-Addiction.
When the open
grave of my mouth,
closes around the
vegetation of the damned,
I eagerly inhale
a slow death,
lit on one end,
its miniature glow,
like the coals
of Hades smolders
as I carry a torch
to some narrow space,
reserved for me in
a tragic breathless future.
I'll continue
to blow O-rings
like a dying
space shuttle,
sharing packs
with my best friends
who will join
me soon enough
in an ash can
of cremation,
or some patch
of unreal estate
plotted for us all,
by force of habit.
Other family and
Friends will gather
above as we lie
snuffed out below,
murmuring sad
"I told him so's,
and spreading dirt,
over the latest news
in their busy lives.
from ashes to ashes,
dust to dust,
from local headlines
to headstones,
our lives will be
extinguished,
when the Marlboro man
at long last rides
off with our souls.
©-MFB III