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Logic I started smoking again after a long time without. I don't remember why I lit up: some envy, some fear I could not face. Went to the corner and bought my brand and took it up so easily in my hand, my mouth, I could not imagine not ever performing this fluid motion. It tasted bitter and my head was dizzy but I kept at it until it changed to smooth forgetfulness and warmth filled my lungs. Fresh air was slim and common compared to this, beautiful darkness. And gone the enormity of quitting, how it was suddenly always this powerless sweet hunger so strong I wondered how I never ended up with needle marks in some shooting gallery, with dirty clothes and dirty hair, some mountain-heavy man on top of me. It was easier to imagine than me on some campus with books in my arms taking notes with a black felt-tip pen. Now I am up to two packs a day. I can feel my body collapsing as I walk the streets. I can feel people staring at me, uncovering all my secrets in broad daylight. Eventually I will have to start thinking about stopping all over again. And keep in mind this time what they always say: Watch out for false highs; there is another person with your eyes hair and mouth on the other side of the room whispering hurt thyself, starve thyself, and it will seem the perfectly right thing to do. -Emily Fragos |
