Death and cigarettes

I blow rings of smoke all the time
Every wakeful moment, each season
Coz death can be a zillion things
I wish to choose my own poison.

Out of the many things that kill us
The most lethal is Boredom
And most obnoxious, of course,
Is the cold altar of Altruism.
Fatal can be a Lover’s Distrust
Ideas can be toxic
One wrong move can prove ruinous
While Humour might be caustic.
A Sacrifice, suicidal
Indecisiveness can be killing
And a Suspicion can gnaw your insides
A Failure might be drilling.

Have you never seen a Spirit die
Or the ebbing of a Passion
Or the necrosis of true Love
Or Faith suffering erosion?

While life hangs on to each labored breath
Death almost always, has no reason.
My smoke rings create an illusion of power
At least, I chose my own poison.