• The whole damn world is on fire. Light me up, she said, and he ran his thumb across the tiny gear. The flame sparked and she inhaled deeply. She coughed, not used to the intensity of the heat between her lips. It was her own personal rebellion against her body, her lips, her tongue. She was a masochist but she loved it. It went on and on and the world didn't change, and neither did she. She had never been a creative person but right now she needed it most. She continues to die as she'd done since she started that day years ago when she first tried it. As her lungs fill up with smoke so does her mind. She is the world, in all it's wretched glory. The smoke spirals out her nose, out the chimneys and into the world to pollute another. Soon they would all be enslaved to these demons and her cracked lips would draw in one last ragged breath. She finished her final cigarette as the world around her collapsed.