The only visible light appears at the end of my lit cigarette
Your personal beacon; my failing defense mechanism.
We stand alone in a cramped, dark space.
Eyebrow raised as realization hits -
Everything here is a gradual killer.
Addictions made to order; made to suffer.
Pain for pleasure, pleasure for pain.
With a light stomp of a booted foot, the cigarette is put out.
And in this dark, you cannot see the warning smirk.
You may be the next.
...but don't we all crave something lethal?