Poem: Bad Habits

The phone always gives me an addiction,
An addiction of a pubescent man in the city.
As I let the glow of my phone cover me, I reached into my pocket
Pulling out a cigarette, lighting up my bad habits.

I took the cigarette in right hand, my phone in the left,
As I looked for a match to strike a fire in my urge, I took another drag.
Seeing all the different ashtrays from different distances.
300 feet, 4000 feet, a mile away,
Close enough are the ones I’ve had experience with, afterwards becoming the farthest places to reach,
I’m no longer a stranger there, but we’re not friends either.

So I keep looking,
My curiosity swimming inside me like finding nemo, wandering into my palm sized cyberspace,
Looking for my tour guide to the 2nd circle of the inferno to put out this fire.

I continue to look for something new, but it just always ends up being the same.
The only difference comes from their name
Afterwards, that cigarette becomes less desirable, like a black widow after it mates.
Sluggish and tired feeling eating everything that is left.
The only thing to feed this addiction is drop the one in my hand and reach for a name that I don’t know and hope that it reaches back to me.




I don’t want to smoke alone.
So I pick up my phone, and I light one up again.