Nicorette, Hersheys & Codeine

I smoked my anxiety out of existence, repeat the cycle every day. I hold the bottle with a prayer and a sigh. Never thought to ask or wonder why ... I've escaped the fire, but the smoke is cancerous. The larvae and film is slick with persistence and artificial insemination. I've developed a sort of intelligence, I've escaped and betrayed what was relevant. Beyond scabs, hello, despair and good morning blues like the sky and your mesmerizing eyes.