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bomb the fucking towel heads
shhh no smoking
nuke the region, it's a desert
a n y w a y
$500 fine for the misplacement
of cigarette butts.
kick homeless meth head after a refused sex 4 cash proposal
jack up the price of
death per pack
TRUTH.COM
about your mother's rotten
CUNT
he left me
alone with scissor gashes
in my legs and a pack of generics. this was the last
time i saw the love of my life
up in the smoke-
car emissions, blast zone dust
tell me i'm destroying the future
for the innocent in each puff but when i look
around
i wonder
where they've gone...
and WHO THE FUCK WANTS TO LIVE TO 90
SHITTING THEIR PANTS?
is it really harm
or just help?
if you think
death
is the worst thing
that could happen to you,
well, i reckon, you've never
been
alive
or filtered through the mayhem
of your t.v. eyes
if you think
dying of lung cancer
is the worst thing
that could happen to you
shove it up your aged
literary douche-stretched
ass.
to take the blame away from the religious right, the war in the middle east,
rush limbaugh's oxycontin addiction, mad excoriating addiction to oil and gas
and violence, violence, violence
they blame
tobacco, booze, drugs, homosexuals
anything to ban, scapegoat or tax
tobacco is a goat that's on fire
dancing in the wet wheat fields
evaporating with the gasoline and rain
while government plays god
children run in the streets
firing stolen gats and dying
meth heads persecute anything
alive or not
and there's people walking around Ohio
with facial scars that make mine look like zits
while fundamentalists run head first
into pitch black construction yards
waiting to fall upwards into paradise
buildings get bombed
addicts go cold turkey against their will
in prisons/jailhouses
forced detox
religious tempering
moral bleaching
and my hands still shake
when I know there is a fix coming
is god enough to circumvent a physical addiction?
there are a lot of people that think so
and when I denied them in AA
they laid a bashing guilt trip on me
the likes of the 1700s in Northeast America
I don't leave my apartment much
there's always someone obsessed with the petty
ready to smear it in my face
the men I smoke with at work
carry knives
but I prefer
nicotine gum
and I still count the number of times
people turn on their car alarms
when I'm out walking
I died a long time ago
but I'm still walking around somewhere
peeking at the clock
and fiending
kurtice6 AT hotmail DOT com
he'd love some feedback
he's a very lonely man
Anne McMillen has been published in Open Wide and featured in Deep Cleveland Poetry. She wrote a column for The Hold. Her local police department has blocked her calls.