If you could slice open my chest I know you'd jerk off all over my darkened, tar filled lungs. Picture the scent of freshly smoked cigarettes as you do; and me, laying on a hospital bed with a cigarette dangling between my lips. Or maybe they'll find me on the floor of my house, victim of a heart attack by my beloved cancer sticks - still holding one between cold fingers. Stroke it to the thought of my weak, little black heart, struggling to pump into my veins. Stroke it to the thought of a tumor under my chest, under my perfect, perky tits. Stroke it as I power smoke yet another cancer sti... Show more