Submitted by Emily Hoover | email@example.com
The following is a poem submitted to the Creative Section by Emily Hoover. The Gargoyle is currently accepting submissions of creative works including creative writing, fine art, graphic illustrations, multimedia and photography.
Hotel Room With moistened lips, I do consent to smoke deep inside my lungs. I shiver, lightheaded. But the thick ember grows smaller, like clockwork. It's crushed out. Insatiable, I buy a different pack.