Deaths Ashes

The entrails of cigarette smoke...
How it always reminds me of a serpents glow.
A destruction of sorts,
The turning our bodies into ash,
The sucking of ones own lips,
Gasping for that moments reprieve...
An assurance that all is well,
Even though short lived, it may be.

It's the killing of ourselves.
Not fully understanding that you are dancing with death itself.
The greedy consuming of an intake plume,
Then the allowance of a gentle whispered sigh.
Praying for that one miniscule ounce of ecstasy,
So that we may be able to leave our troubles behind.

It's as if death whispers to us,
"Come along and play,
I'll take all your sorrows away."

And we do...
And it does...
To some more than others.
Some call it a vice,
While to some,
It reveals its true name,
"Addiction", "Bad Habit",
Or on the rare occasion it goes by,
"Cancer"..
Who then in return says,
"You have 8 months to live."

It's funny how we run from life;
To lose the troubles, the worries, the pain.
But in the end,
It always finds you.
Even through the end of an empty cigarette butt.

<Dedicated to a loved one who has died from lung cancer>