Youth is the drug we all long to
possess.
And for just a few moments it’s
ours.
But the harder we try to find that
dealer
and the more desperate you become
that your entire life is
spent
to the point where there is no you
and there is just a
leftover cigarette
with the cotton brown and
singed of chemical tobaccos.

That cotton used to be
so white and so clean.
But even when it was
so white and so clean
you could smell the prophesy of a
burn out
until all that’s left is a chewed up,
spit dried and crushed to the ground
memory
of what you once were
even when you smelled
like the pre-rotting corpse
you were.

So white and so clean.