Silently, but prosperously killing myself,
my daily prayer of triumphant suffocation,
gratifying toxins caressing my lungs.
At night, I lock all windows, doors,
and at night I hold a hand, it burns and scorches me to dust,
At dawn, when white light wakes me up,
an old hag heaves, choking, spitting up her insides,
Blood runs thicker than any oaths, weak are pledges that I owe,
and still, I blame the fumes that murder us, we only have so much time,
-I used to say, with my hoarse voice, as the foggy vapour escaped my lips,
Corruption and disease, malignancy, bloom underneath my skin,
I lay there, staring at the bitter white, ceiling of the clinic room,
occupied by the absence of my dear fumes,
Like an old friend it was always there, sorrowful happy or sad
it had always kept me cheered,
Death can last a second, or a hundred years,
damned are those who will waste theirs,
Death's a door to a world, those down here cannot feel,
Dark and concealed like the coral sea,
Time's escaping, my ''friendship's'' killing me.
