Boiling Blood To Heat A Flood

I smoke another cigarette,
and grimace as a piece of me dies.
I seethe my malice from my pores.
And cast my mind to fucking whores.

I cannot see you in my mind,
because you give genesis to what I'd left behind.

I see it rear its ugly head,
and whisper in its voice,
"You always knew you'd come to me,"
"You never had a choice."