Smoke

One more tiptoe up the stairway;
One more crossroad to the tomb
Setting the stage for the tragic play
I inhale to relish doom.

What toxin I tell my soul to crave,
Such poison I will my demons feed
And when they speak to me of the grave
My breath labors with greed.

Stench of dying nerves please leave me;
Heart that scares me hard or light
Please halt not—I only see
Walls vibrating in the night.


And which one of us is the slave?
Who is to say which has a soul?
Is farewell to clouds truly brave
When there is nothing but control?

To every tear in God’s eye
Wilt thou forgive me if I die?
I was born only yesterday
And the womb has never gone away.

With thee or without thee
I will beg thee not to leave
Though thy beckoning has slain me
And I have forgotten how to breathe.

So weak and so dry,
Far from ready for the sky,
Lost among more worthy prayers
As again I crawl the stairs.