You move like smoke
through my head
seeping in and out
like water
infecting every part of me
like a virus

sometimes I wish I could be cured
but you intoxicate me
more than wine
impairing my every sense
my being stumbling through every drunken thought

you move like smoke
through me
turning every inch of me
black

02/24/2003

Posted on 02/25/2003
Copyright © 2026 Jessica A Steenbock