Release

[melodicinkysin]

I sink into streaks of rust
and scum, lock my sagging door
and smirk.  I cringe
at the seething tiles that hold
my feet and green fur
that adorns the toilet.
Yet, in this surrounding filth,
I jut my lip out
        [I want
              this too badly]
and bite down,
hard.

Reach into my pocket, pluck
the small, two-tone paper
tube from its cardboard house.
Cheeks round and pull.
I want to watch it burn.

Slip the paper between my lips,
lick the end
and feel the spread
of lipstick folding into the paper.
The taste of red that rings
its body is of clotted skin.  In longing
for charcoal and heat,
I light its head ablaze.

Suck, drawing
in the steady burn
of toxins across my tongue,
saliva laving the spongy tip.
The cigarette curls
its toes and sputters
trails of white heat.
                             [God, yes.]

I ignite in the surge of chemical
clots, press against
the wall, pant and puff
the poison out, eyes lolling in the flicker
of lights above me.

Flicked into the toilet bowl,
I watch it turn
on itself,
hear it wither
in a cloak of hiss. Bent,
its ashen face looks
at me through the foggy water.
I choke a garbled sigh, moan
that it is over.

I am unsatisfied, but it is spent.