The crackhead cig report

When you look at your own habits like an old dirty sock… It’s probrobaly time to stop. My nose snares and my chest hurts. Head aches begin to overwhelm me. I’m getting irritated with myself. Looking at the pack I feel the cancer tempting me with death. Head wagging to the side.. Dry mouth… Gross. A month ago my favorite two year old grabs my purse heads to the door and says.. Going to smoke. I’m embarrassed,sad and I feel like death is just outside. Oh the power of the damn crack head tar that is draining my wallet and attacking my pride. Want to yell fucking bitch heave the pack but instead the lighter spikes a flame appears and I am inhaling. I don’t even like this… If it was weed I would allow a slow smile grace chapped lips roll my head back and inhale. With a looming brain tumor sure a little toke will be acceptable… But mot this long Newport death. There are two more in the pack and the money is gone… What will I do.. Twerk my walker toting ass to the floor for a drag to hell by way of toxins that can’t be mixing well with the steroids I injest every six. Hours. I welcome the cavalier sneers, please oh please leave me ashamed, leave my soul tortured because of all the things I have done wrong in my life… Right now these crack like abhorrent tendents are crippling me. I hAte u Newport. IM ON MY KNEES IN PRAYER… god deliver me from this. I know the power is yours… It’s taking me down. My Peyton will never smoke.. Her arms wrapped around me vine to skin… Thousand kisses

Planted on ever place she can find warm me… Give me these moments… Reminders that this last one in this fucking pack can take her from me… Course my skin to black pimpled ugly. Something as beautiful as me.. Don’t need a dam crack cig report 


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