Chris Matthews.

Nicotine Hit.

 

Cigarette, cigar, roll up or fag,

Different ravings of a similar bag.

Restless fingers, quivering lips, all will stop once it's lit.

That's the powerful surge of the nicotine hit.

 

Plume of azure, spirals high,

Seconds to minutes as time flies by.

Inhale Benzene Cyanide,

Warnings too late for those who've died!

 

Alveolar blacken, lungs a straining,

Nothing can stop; nicotine craving.

Your fingers, eyes; hair is yellowed, 

Coloured by the smoke we've bellowed. 

 

Grow my children, don't get hooked,

No babies teething, that tube you've sucked!

One day soon, I'll try to quit,

Until then, just one more Hit.

 

©Chris Matthews.