How To Smoke A Cigarette

In and out,
your breath runs raw.
Now some artistry:
curl the smoke,
play games,
style is what the world craves.
Good medicine requires
you let it kill you some.
Hold it in your lungs,
just let it burn
like a candle in your head.

by Matt Greenblatt

Other poems of GREENBLATT (39)

Comments (4)

You either love him or hate him, depending on your snobbery intake. Drunken rubbish
I've enjoyed every one of Chas' poems that I've read.
This is a horrible poem! The devil created suicide, hatred, and the other things that would harm a human being spirtually and phsically not God! I know he's dead but how could he write such a horrible poem? Sheesh!
The sheer profundity of simplicity