Stubbed.

This is a drag;
the thought -
the whiff of billowing
smoke trails
however minute
is a titan that pulls
at my limbs.
I have never felt
so torn; toasted -
roasting myself for
my own habits.

I can barely see the sky
from my balcony's edge
but every little cloud
I blow, I give to the
patch of cyan framed
above between leaning
concrete and bricks.

I give to the heavens.

I burn in the hell fires.

I am a sinner.

I am an addict.

An addict for the small,
fleeting crackles
that remind me of
conversations.
An addict for being the observer,
observant of my surroundings,
contemplating philosophies
of the every day
man.
The holidays give me none of the above
Only a feeling that these were once there.
It is the perfect time
for redemption
yet, I indulge.
I love
and I regret
This break
leaves me broken.

Stubbed.