Breathing ProblemsMature

(apparently "##^!" is mature language whoops no one told me)

Searching for lumps in my lungs
Between the secondhand smoke and the cityscape
The tits and the cardiovascular tissue
Drinking in nicotine like mothers' milk
I long for cigarettes to cloud my vision
Speed my heart, burn my body
My father's cough sounds like moving furniture
Dragging heavy, unpolished
Like some Marlboro singer
In black shades, breathing shadows
My voice, quiet, edgeless
The nervous laugh, breathy
Full of ice crystals, unmelting
Headlight-frozen, doe-eyed
Clean as papers
Ink-sodden and tear-stained
Overcast cast-off, mired
In the mud of this Thames-shore town
Storm clouds always linger here
So I choose to make my own

The End

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