Smoke

I sit in a room
with so many people;
but where are they?

I hear their voices,
they talk and laugh;
but it's muffled,
I can't see them.

The room is nothing
but a thick, dense cloud of smoke.
There's a small clearing to my left,
I can finally see the end of the table;
until someone there lights up.

Taking a long drag,
he puffs out rings and designs.
Curls and twirls of smoke
rise from the end of his cigarette,
adding to the suffocating fog.
Then he disappears
as it closes around him.

My eyes water.
I *Inhale*...*Exhale*...*Cough*

They say smoke rises.
In this room it just lingers.
It clings to everything,
especially to the addiction
of those who give it life.