"I'm not being sold to anyone underage who can't control me.."

I wrote this in like 10 minutes.
He put the thin roll to his lips, and flicked the lighter on. Immediately he began to choke and cough, retching at the bitterness of it all, wondering why the hell he had just inhaled more of the rubbish. He slowly exhaled, the smoke that rushed out of his cracked lips was in the air around him and in his face and god, it burned his eyes. They welled up as he brought the stick to his mouth once again, and he had no idea why he kept on doing this. It was so sick, yet he couldn't stop, as if he was being controlled by another being, forcing him to inhale as he choked and sputtered as the black trash travelled down his throat, settling into his lungs. He tried desperately to put it down but no, he just couldn't, gagging as he inhaled and the tears streaming uncontrollably down his face has he exhaled, smoke stabbing, burning at his eyes. As he repeated, the roll got shorter along with the coughs, and it wasn't soon before he could go without hardly coughing. He was sure that the tar had coated the inside of his throat, and he was sobbing as he threw the butt down bitterly, watching silently as the remains flamed on the ground.
Wow, that was angsty enough. xD
So I have no idea why I wrote that. I guess I was bored enough. My next blog will be full of answers to Julie's suggestions.