You wanted to lie down
just to breathe, for a bit,
just to breathe.

I poured the rest myself,
too much, maybe.
I needed just one more,

What was left swirling
in the slim, silver bottle was
a lot, I suppose.

My eyes watered in protest, and
my nose wrinkled, but my throat still
felt coated with gasoline.

My insides twisted,
knotted, turned over
refused the poisonous, liquid fire

But it was already boiling
in my veins, my electrified veins,
too alive.

Maybe, I needed to breathe too,
but no, you rolled your head
and blinked spinning eyes,

Just have a light, you said
a good cigarette can almost
fix anything.

My first drag was too greedy,
sucking down the soured heat
until I choked.

My buzzing fingers fumbled,
and you snatched for it ravenously
to show me.

The pale paper crawled back
with your smooth, practiced pull and
blazed a brilliant, bright orange.

Your slightly parted lips
seeped celestial wisps of grayness,
and your eyes,

Rolled back to check the insides
of your skull as you pushed it back
into my mouth.

And your tainted breath
mingled with the half-dead air,
but my own drag,

Again, came almost too strong,
twisting, curling tendrils pushing out my mouth
like thick, ghostly snakes.

You swayed, hunched, no dropped,
maybe, too heavy, and then you
let it all come back up

Just as stinking and burning as it was
when it went down, but now out on the pavement
instead of fizzing in four, five, six too many glasses.

I thought you were sleeping after awhile,
you were so still and breathing, I swear.
I thought you were sleeping.

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