Breathing

Smoke builds in my lungs to curl out from under my lips. ‘Hold me in your arms, please. I want to feel secure in my life. I smoke weed/dabs to feel secure in the notion that I have access to utter peace instantly’. Breathe in. ‘Warm’, Ruth thought, falling back onto the bed. ‘What must I do to fill this insatiable emptiness within me. I feel it. The smoke burns out the badness and ejects it from my body in a large fluff floating from my body into free space. It feels me, but does not love me in return’. 5 seconds left. Breathe out.