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Some More Smoke.

Through the cloudy tears in my bloodshot eyes,
I can make out the fog that escapes my lungs.

Even if the room spins just a little bit, who cares?
Its what I need, if I choke it down I become myself.

My throat hates the burn, but my brain loves to swim.
The resin on my lips is just a sign I'm approachable again.

I get the feeling I need to sin again.
Besides, I will never be a saint.
Written by BleedingInferno219 (Kristyn Ashley.)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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