Don't just sit there and beg. Your need for my ash runs much deeper than desire. Your body craves my smoke and cigarette butts on a spiritual level. You worship my ash. By being my ashtray you are sacrificing yourself to me.

My smoke draws you closer and closer. You hand over your tongue to be singed by my hot ash, the cherry of my cigarette slowly extinguished in your mouth.

Bow at my alter,
Elena De Luca