THE SMOKER - George Zorabei

THE SMOKER
(Oh! that man should put an enemy in his mouth to steal away his brain-William Shakespeare)
His first two fingers clutched the dagger,formed the cross.
The dancing smokeline gracefully swirl,weave its stench,
Rose,swing,snail and snake-ease away.
Some veiled the breath,blushed the teeth,the gum,and
Thro' the nostrils extol the life of lost,a sobriguet for suicide.
Then he gave his cross a friendly tap to dust off some ashes To his death so he could slice himself with dose
Enough to get himself into the grave he craves,
And reach deeper into nature's inner recess,
While he sat back to garner his guts in the trance that Ensued as the woven tray of dust take him out
In the cosy,hot and misty breeze caressing his eyes.
And as the gush of steam rise,i see in eyes,wandering head And poisoned mind slowly sawed into abyss of lost,decay And condemnation,as the stupefying poison wiped off the Splendour of the man,gets him deranged
And stripped his cognition,
Then,the face sagging,drown,sight drool,
Cadence slurred foot deep thro' estacy
That will stay but a moment
And expiate a man in love
With his own easeful death.
George Zorabei-The SpokenWords Maverick (The Poet)