Smoking Poem

Malia Gillette

Jan 3, 2018·1 min read

My teeth are going to shatter,

but it doesn’t matter.

The smoke enters my mouth,

goes south,

scraping the membranes off of my tongue,

coating my lungs.

I don’t sing,

I sung

Before cigarette’s won.

When I think about ’em I’m like

“God, I’m dumb.”

I mean….give me one,

Please?

I’ll give you my keys.

Don’t mother fucking tease

Get on your motherfuckin’ knees!

I know it

Cause I ho it.

I can’t breath when I take a hit

and I can’t breath when I don’t, shit,

the feeling remits.

My jaw muscle feels like a muzzle

The reason I quit becomes a puzzle

Cause speed down two weeks and

I’m like a newborn with a special gift:

Addiction

Right about now I could be Phillip Morris’s number one missionary

Pick a word in the dictionary

and I’ll justify why my brain activity

looks like a chunk off Italy

or a piece of swiss cheese

as I Nicotease my cilia without remorse.

I will quit, of course,

but I will always be fucking

smoking in my head.