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Conjolted Poetry

Conjolted Poetry

Wednesday, 22 August 2012

Die another day.

My body trembled like an weary pole in a winter storm. I reached out for my pocket leaving trails of sweat and pulled out a crumbled box. At that moment, it was either my superman or grim reaper.
I spread open its wings to access what I hoped would be left in it. I took a glance inside the small box of cherry cigarettes, for a second it looked empty- my heart stuttered.
I quickly stashed the last one into my mouth placing it firmly between the clenching hold of what was left of my black lips. I then reached out for my other pocket to pull out a purple lighter that was halfway empty and the words,” only chain smokers carry around fire,” rung through my head.
I questioned what had I become. The thought blurred after I remembered I had to quench my undying thirst. I thrust the lighter with my succulent thumb and like Caveman I sparked a fire.
It formed up from the small hole of the purple lighter and I lit the edge of my firework. The first pull of death strangled my throat with an ice cold sting, and it went down to my decaying lungs.
The edge of my cigarette crumbled down to the floor in a simultaneous sequence. . I burnt down the spire to its foundation and the building, my body got destroyed once again by this foreign terrorist.
My mind eased up, sweat dried as I got smothered by cigarette smoke.
My heart, after inhuman pounding- settled, and it felt like I would live to see another day…

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