Ahh I shouldn't do this because I don't feel very comfortable with my work yet.. but here are 2 small parts of it. They aren't sequential... Feed back please!
I can feel it as I draw in, my lips surrounding it and inhaling its poison. It filters down my throat, burrowing deeper and turning black like velvet in my lungs. It clings to me as breathe it in, selfishly controlling me, it knows I will give into my desire, the desire is too strong to withstand. I light another. Its paper and poison burn and drop onto the floor, like a fragile bomb, spreading shards of ash like shrapnel in a war zone.
Darkness surrounds me, another blackout. You don't realise how much you rely on something until it is made absent. You create your own little microcosm based around the notion that certain elements of the urbanised world are reliable, and consistent. If this belief is made void, by events out of your control, it may threaten your entire existence, and simplistically transmogrify it into wax, wick and a burning reminder of times past, and the impending de-civilisation of our society which may occur as a result of this single, uncontrollable event. My cigarette shone out like a beacon in this darkness. A symbol for everything I stand for encased in poisoned tube.
----------------------------------------------------
Push me over the edges, suffocate my senses, I know you; your familiar stringent tone, you strip me defenceless. I stand in front of the mirror, the images reflected; I see you, I see through. I touch the reflection, powdered nails scratching at my face.
“Damage me, this is my consequence. I can feel you, always.”
I wipe away the line of blood which had fallen from my nose to my lip. How could I have let myself become this? Powder slides from the line on the bathroom floor to its destination inside me. I can feel the poison seeping into my body. It travels deeper, forming itself with my internal fluid, becoming thick like a sickening dough, weaving itself around me. Weighing me down with it’s addiction. I pick myself up from the floor, wiping the powder from my nostril. I walk into the hallway, stumbling, then marrying myself with the carpet; this will be my bed tonight.
a vast amount of research needs to be undertaken.
