when the time comes...

it looked like the tumors were trying to break out of his body my neighbor said.
metastasized to every organ within an invisible rib cage
lumps just started bursting out of his shriveled, dry, chemo-radiated skin
his eyes bulged out of their sockets right before he took his last breath.


when they had found out, it was too late
as it often is...

he had been suffering for months now.
it had got his tongue
took his sight
and his dignity...

he said he would quit when the time is right.
he died before that.

it killed him
that slender white drag that we think, we look so cool holding between our first and middle
when we stand there in the blistering cold, letting the gray fumes swivel and warm us within, never thinking about it burning holes through our alveolar sacs..

it makes us feel-- oh so good…
the whole process of finding a stash, flipping it open, pulling out the lucky one, a flick, a flick, and another flick--the flames crisply burning the tobacco as we bring it near the end tip while our hand is cuffed so gently protecting the entity that is about to bring us our prime pleasure of the day.

Oh how pretty it looks as it incinerates into the tar and slowly engulfs the whiteness with its brightness.

How proud we are to stand with our friends, holding these beauties, whiffing away sophisticated conversations, watching everyone walk by while the sun takes its course over the horizon.

Darkness slowly creeps in but we never realize that the very forbidden act that makes us feel oh so good and rich is penetrating toxins into our mind and body.
we won’t go jump out in front of a car because our life is so dear and precious to us, yet, why do we slowly poison our souls to a painful death leaving our loved ones to grieve?

yes, that white slender stalk that is just so refreshing that it makes our mouths water at our desks till we get up and step out of our office to light one up.

yes, that white thing that pushes lunch to midday, keeps my waist trim, my drinks enjoyable, and my life just a little bit more pleasant...

that oh so good--taboo candy, that we need before we put our feet on the ground in the morning…

oh that little white thing--no, it can’t hurt me...
i can stop whenever I want, he used to say.


it took his life before he could stop.

he was 56.

my neighbor weeps for her brother now.