Cigarette Burns

I put a cigarette out on my arm today. I held it still, watched the small snake’s tail of smoke wiggle inches into the air and away from me. I pressed the burning embers into my skin breathing slowly, my exhale ushering the fire into my skin, my inhale trapping the heat inside my bones. Seconds passed before I even noticed the pain from the little fires trailing across my skin; ashen black soldiers marching off to battle on the ground.

A haze in the corners of my eyes flickers, slowly receding and pushing forward in my vision like tidal waves. Tunnel vision: a blank space being filled with all of my thoughts at once fighting for room on the wall. Widescreen view: a world moving on without me.

I recoil from the the pain eventually, a whimper running from my throat and across the bloody cracks of my lips. The cry slips and falls on the crimson path but with the flick of my tongue it’s swept back up into me to be used again later. For now I plug my mouth with the still burning cigarette swallowing the burning toxins with a grimace.

My vision is cloudy with tears and the haze forcing itself into my view. The faceless beast slithers into my body, its shapeless form slicing away at my soul and burying itself deep into the darkest parts of me. I hear it breathing with me, puffing the nicotine in rhythm with my heartbeat. I feel it gnawing at my heart as it demands more. More heat. More smoke. More pain. We feel nothing but the pain.

One last puff and my cigarette goes out. I can’t help but feel disappointed. I can tell the haze is upset too. The beast expands within me, drawing a black curtain over my body as it crumbles into ashes on my hands. I hold the dead cigarette with one hand and its burns on the other.