It looks so innocent. As you were when you first discovered what pleasures vice could provide you with.
Disarmingly innocent seeming, encased in white with an earthly brown interior.
Thin like the image of a ballet dancer purging her insides in the privacy of her bathroom.
Smooth, like the skin of a newborn child.
So frail to withhold. So innocent to the eyes. But, only when looked at.
Once put to use, it is lit by a flame that warms as much as it burns: and it is brought to the lips, discolouring teeth as the smoke ventures deep down your throat and overpowers the fresh air in your lungs. It turns fresh breath into an offensive, musty, acrid and overpowering force of air. Something that poisons the mind and body in its every attribute.
In writers it inspires thoughts, in laymen it inspires deadly diseases. But, in all who smoke it, it inspires a sense of satisfaction.
A white stick… the colour of purity. Within its white paper thin walls are countless poisons and addictive additives, all blended into one colour, brown. The taste with an inhale betrays not it contents, tastes exactly like the poison you are inhaling. It is a deadly, slow killer, deteriorating your mind until your body cannot handle it anymore.
You are constantly holding within your mind the countless dangers of this ‘habit’, your body shivers at times with the fear for your health. Yet, after this long, it has you wrapped
around it’s skinny little white fingers…
And so you light up another one.