I Don’t Need Nicotine Patches, I Smoke Cigarettes

Images of a Swamp Willow weigh me down

Statue my presence, petrify my face

Perhaps the monster’s toothed margin

its scattered warts on its alabaster belly

spare my fear a touch.

For its tentacles that root it still,

terrorize me the most.

The hush is almost tranquil, noiselessness

serves a calm but the tick

of time crescendos ‘til I crack

My little keepsake pattern,

always biting at my heels.

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