Hi

A small vice poem that links taste, ruin, and appetite, then lands on the body's instant surrender to nicotine.

The poem traces a chain of appetite: taste leads to ruin, and the better the taste, the more the hangman approves. Nicotine arrives not as the subject but as the final link in a logic that connects pleasure to execution, making every indulgence a small rehearsal for the end.

The title 'Hi' gives the poem an eerie casualness — as if addiction itself were greeting the speaker, friendly and familiar, the way a habit always is just before it tightens.