Willpower!
Wish it was easy!
If only I could resist!
The thing that floods my soul with pain....
My body pure and strong...
A flick of a match stick
Poison roll edged between my fingers
Slowly raised to meet the flaming stick...
A protective hand covers
Combustion!
Slowly raised to my parted lips...
Which instinctively clamp down!
Eyes closed
A deep draw with a body tense from waiting!
A slow inhalation!
Then a passion known by the Brotherhood......
Exhalation!
A shiver runs through my spine!
oh the feeling!
I tilt my head!
My toes dig into the ground from satisfaction..
What satisfaction?
To get control from one that poisons and slowly kills!
When the breathing becomes laboured
When the thick gel of spit comes out
Those I love suffer from the result of my joy! ! ! ! !
'To all my smoking friends-CAUTION B4 PICKING'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem, like it.