Secondhand Smoke

 
Breathe. Swallow. Drown.
Now you’re lost where no one
Will come down
Down to find you in the deep
In the dark
Of secondhand smoke
Where lips curl
Dissatisfied
And the snarl
Provokes the night
To leave
But you’re still down there
At the bottom of the shallows
Hungrily searching for something
Anything
Except the secondhand smoke
That fills you up
From the inside out
It goes in smooth
And comes out jagged
Taking with it pieces
Of the pink flesh
Of your lungs
So when others borrow this body
And use it up, burn it
Through and through
Don’t keep looking
For the way out
Just follow
The secondhand smoke