breaking lines

your landline’s disconnected but i’m addicted to the dial tone
piercing my ear drum - breaking glass over the phone
i drank cough syrup in protest, i’m still bleeding your name through the speaker
saccharine taste brings the ringing of fears, can’t breathe but I’m smoking bleaker
smashed the ashtray against the wall, why’d you have to go & break connection
heart in shards on the floor, I’ve cut my ears on your inflections
bile rises up to burn my teeth to dust, yet i’m swallowing you back down with a shot of lighter fluid
my tongue clouds with ash; all it takes to burn is oxygen and flames or just another lying kiss
i’m slipping through cracks in the floorboards & i’m searching for a ghost i never knew
I’m suffocating in open spaces, a reflection dwelling in this body of dew 
my lungs might burst if they never smell your shampoo or taste the dust from your lips
the scent of drowning was never as sweet as this

- collaboration with the wonderfully talented @awhorableperson ! :))  


First thing in the morning and last thing at night, my bedside cabinet reinforces what I need most in life - and what provides intense rewards when I make it priority.

At the start and end of each day in bed, the compulsive ritual Communion ensures that my mind, lungs and soul are fucked by my Master and God, Marlboro, as HE grips my Cock and pumps it with lust and worship for HIM.
Hail Marlboro!