Revealed, you sought to pierce my grey disguise,
Enticed by acid etching on my skin,
You longed to penetrate the pain within.
Death by proxy grips like an icy word,
A whisper not intended to be heard,
But once released on unsuspecting ears
Becomes impossible to clear.
I felt it fall away, my hopeless smile.
The clock’s hands raced pelmel round the dial.
Its restless fingers drummed the final mile.
I never understood life’s clever joke.
My innards twisted with each word you spoke,
Craving the final fiction, one last smoke.
Here's a Klimt for all you smokers. I'm looking forward to the day, not too far away when smoking is banned from all public places. A small victory, but a step in the right direction. Incidentally, I am not opposed to those who wish to commit suicide in this way, but surely it's more effective and quicker in small air-tight rooms!