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Not so early, they pronounced me a smoker. Why now, when smoke has gone through me for several years? I don’t know, I’m probably addicted due to their habits, the official carrier of the first vice.

A very ugly feeling from which you run away from reality with the following thought: “I’m not really a smoker, now I can not smoke a month.” Why only a month? I still don’t doubt my power of will but think on the battlefield how difficult it is to defeat you and with what?

Your character

I do all the legal drugs, but with these other two I keep the distance, we drink coffee or beer and that’s all. I take caffeine only when I feel insufficient amount of sleep, and alcohol is not lacking I wouldn’t think of it after countless days of abstinence.

Only a cigarette, a hi-tech temptress approaching and nestling, doesn’t care if I have time and whether I want her, as a prostitute. Feeling like home with me, warns me when she needs attention. Jealous of all my ignorance, calls me louder and stronger as time passes. The compromise is all Greek to her.

Your outfit

Always dressed in a white shirt, you still cannot hide all your blackness. So imposing and slim, you seduce me to start your fire. That your smoke, imprinted with my lungs, reminds me of the dirty ritual, dirty, disgusting little habit. With the an excuse of stress relief, I keep being tempted by you.

Comparison

You annoy me! You give me the envy of you, as an obsession. As if I were taking antidepressants, as a medicine I had to have, like an asthmatic inhaler, a pendant or a pet without legs. Besides, you set me the dose and time I’ll spend by dosing, these 5 minutes are yours.

And every other twin sister, is nothing better than you. Just a pale copy, with which I’m out of habit. All of your other partners have the same problem as me. Everyone who can’t deal with boredom and idleness will only then return to you.

Pulp fiction

I remembered something to show you how nasty you are. Even if you’re throwned out from the movies, big time. You’re not a modern, short-lived life, you’re just not my type.

I want away from you, your immorality does not wash. You remind me of Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction. Girl, you will be alone soon, very soon.

Slaviša Ilić

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