I stand over the ledge,
smoking cigarettes
that cost ten bucks apiece
thinking about
how little drag I am feeling
and how I am exhaling the smoke,
from my mouth than my nose,
laughing at myself for thinking like that,
Guess meditation is doing it’s job afterall,
Note note and don’t judge,
I also think of Patrick Melrose and thing he says
About getting out of addiction,
People making so much fuss about leaving this leaving that,
When in truth it is just as easy,
As putting one in your mouth,
The act of putting it in a dustbin,
So I tell myself,
That I could put this cigarattee,
Into the dustbin,
It’s not doing anything anyways,
Why make cancer smile,
But I continue to smoke anyways,
And by the time nausea hits me,
There is nothing to discard,
But stray bits of tobacco,
That couldnot hit the roll.
theinvertedpoetry 