Dead Men's cigarettes.

Dead men's cigarettes and we choke on the bitter regrets of ourselves

Not sure if we breathe to live or because it is what we’ve always done

Ones been lit and the flame is glowing, each puff and the cancer is growing

But it feels good or necessary they got us young and cool when death seemed long away

The consequences for the future seemed so long away that it wouldn't matter

The smoke curls and we spin yarns we made a choice, we chose to do this

To make each inward breath a little burning death wish

An affront to our remarkable system our major pumps and motors greased in gunk

Yeah cos we so cool so film noire, so debonair we would pay to breathe in rancid air

(Poem written after coughing up red sputum suffering pneumonia and pleurisy in NHS respiratory ward).