You Are Dead
My lungs stir beneath a black cloak
A bridal veil of ash and smoke
The Wedding From Hell
inside my chest
Meanwhile nicotine carves channels of clarity
in my brain, dispels disparity
A twinkling canal
inside my head
My fingers twitch and shake
as ash falls from the tip like acrid snowflakes
Each drag my brain says ‘You are alive’
Each drag my lungs say ‘You are dead' -exhale- ‘You are dead.’
This poem is about:
Me