Ghosts in the steam of a planet

What happens to a consciousness that thrives on amonia steam?

The blue smoke of the cigarette curls in the air with a languid strip tease as it slowly exhales from the thick red lips of the Sister.

It having been five or seven days since I kicked.

I did not know what I wanted worse. To get inside that hot forbidden with my fingers or smoke that cigarette...or grope her under her robes as she lets the smoke be inhaled into my hungry lungs as I heave in body shaking ejaculation.

I remain cool as a breeze...everything but my eyes. There is a heat that I cannot conceal.

I wish I could not...or at least did not have to describe that moment. As the fucking   
narrator I am compelled to share with you that glimpse of Venus. Stripped of all Romance 
when  the facesheild cracked and the burning got in behind my eyes. The worst oddest most 
vulnerable feeling I have ever had. For that brief instant my eyes, nose and throat were a 
searing horrifying orfice expelling the last vital gases in my body with a mad shriek

The twinge of nictotine withdrawal...just bearly covering something...something inside my thoughts or nervous system...

...something like a ghost