sitting there staring deeply at your last cigarette,
the way it withers and burns towards your finger tips
a depressing facade pulls down from overhead
as night falls and crawls between the posts of your bed
sucks into your ears where you dreams slither and weave
between the vast interconnectedness of every chemical
reaction being translated into thoughts, conversations, and imagery
one may stutter, another may trip, and the information highway
will suddenly collapse.
your motor skills will buckle under the lack of input
your body will do the minimum to stay alive,
just to conserve all that energy when you really want to go out
with a bang.
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