It's like the Novocain that numbs me from the world. The cigarette pressing between my lips giving me the kiss of death. The warm feeling it gives my chest that soothes my anxiety. The head rush that slows my brain down from thinking a million miles per hour. With each cigarette I have, it's like another shot to my heart. Leaving my lungs breathless and craving for more. It's like that one person you want to cut from your life, but can't. The problem I can't run from because it's inside my pocket knowing I'll eventually break. One day I hope I can leave and move on from you; unit then I'll light you up, so we can continue this dance in the cycle of slow suicide you are doing to me.
