Withdrawal,
withdrawal,
from these precious sticks
of doom,
the blatant causes
of various cancers,
and other deadly conditions
they deliver.
With their absence,
I feel the drag,
their lacking of
spiking chemicals,
their irrevocable power,
there’s still poison in
my bloodstream,
will it be strong enough
to patch the physical yearnings?
Will grinding teeth,
picked fingernails
be viable distractions for me?
The burning inhalation,
the absorption,
quick brain chemical memory,
stimulation,
I feed off the desire,
cessation was such a challenge, you see,
having fallen from the path,
diverged from it,
a temporary misstep or lethal
stomp away for good?
We'll see.
A tentative toe upon the righteous
path of health,
clean scent,
unstained fingernails,
perhaps the danger of cancer,
I have danced around again,
perchance will I succeed at
finally being rid of them?
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Comfreak from Pixabay
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