Chainsmoking

This is one of my series poems. The way this one was made was by taking random observations throughout a month's time, and then, through a process of elimination and combination, I came up with this crazy thing...
*
Brick wall of smoke.
Spongy hair soaking up the stench.
It makes you cool. You look so sexy.
Vintage case. Awesome lighter.
Teary-eyed and stinging.

**
Silver or gold.
Menthol or ultra.
Regular or light.
Short or long.
Hard or soft.

***
Delicate fingers.
Lipstick filter.
Hypnotic smoke.
Wrap your lips around that.
Inhale, exhale, shallow breath.
Worst craving.
I need one.

****
I didn’t have an idea for my paper, but I did have gin and cigarettes. I wondered what he would say if he came in the door to find me chain-smoking while drinking a dirty martini in front of a blank computer screen.

*****
Worsdsworth is waiting.
Cough into a passed on book.
Splintered toothpick.
Bent, saliva straw.

******
Can I bum a square?
Am I still here, Babydoll?
You wanna go burn one?
Can I get a light?