"the rain comes through my jacket..."

Another piece of gum snapped and dripped in my mouth. i stuffed the soft squares into my open mouth to suffocate the screaming want for a cigarette. it felt bleak and tasteless rolling around in warm twists as i made more spit to chew on it.
the old phantom tastes came back into my thoughts. dead sensations that pounced on me as a tingling reminder that I was only turning my back to memories, not really leaving it behind.
my eyes pinched at the sides as i fretted. the taste of synthetic watermelon melted away to be replaced with metallic silt. blood in my mouth. not really, just the taste. the taste that was always there, i just did a good job hiding it deep down. no cigarette smoking just meant that I was fucked. the bloody pulp taste popped up and curdled my gut with every mouthful of spit i swallowed. if i fixated on it i would stop swallowing until i couldn't keep it in... if i swallowed it would keep flipping on my senses... the swallowed taste memories sending my stomach into shaking movements of fear and anxiety.... 20 and arched over a toilet after another 6AM shift on the ward. the skin on my knees pushing back as I ground them into the tiles. why did it have to taste like blood? why not the other major scents of shit, hot piss and medical taint of creams and other topical aids? just blood. just the one thing that made me twist and wretch everything that was in my stomach up into the bowl.
back to the now and back to the gum that was reaching cow cud proportions... i shook my head and looked down into my wallet. i definitely have enough to buy a pack of smokes. this isn't worth being in a lower risk category for strokes... i'll take it over receding into my coo coo-pants mind and memories.