When the very action of inhaling and exhaling only leaves you wanting for more, you know you’re in a dangerous, vicious cycle. Chk and light the match. Chk and burn that fag. Chk and puff the puff. Chk and roll your bitter tongue. Those unholy substances of pleasure, of unidentifiable guilt. Two decades of empty sin box now gone at sixes and sevens. Thin stick between your fingers infuses the colourless toxic in your lung. Never have a poison felt so smooth on a heavy time. How natural.