Those foes of mine.

Those foes of mine.
Creating holes in time.
Every puff I take, my lungs shake.
Every drag I revive the urges.
The nicotine surges through me.
Constricting my veins like a boa.
Tricking my brain like so what?
This is my battle cry?
A dimly lit stick.
One day I'll become sick.
My life wick run down.
I frown and shake my head but still I fed and continue to feed my addiction.
Friction burning in between my fingers, paper on my lips.
Filter drink like potion.
With this magic I take sips.
No. I slipped again.
I smoked another.
What would I think if this happened to my brother.
Its atrocious I declare I swear, I don't even smoke in pairs. I smoke alone whenever I'm bored at home. Why do I do it? Every time I stop and start again I feel like I blew it.
Don't misconstrue it. I liked it once. I'll like it again if I continue.
Blasphemy. Look at Cindy loo who.
She's barely passing thirty, yet she looks like she's ninety-nine.
If I keep this up I'll never find the time I wasted waiting in lines, smoking secluded like it was a crime, hiding and finding nickles and dimes for another pack of stogies.
My mind is a fickle rouge when it comes to the matter.
It wants to say "what's the matter, its just one more. I can stop anytime I want."
but that's like working on a five year plan waiting to choose a font.
It goes off track and Its hard to bring it back and soon my life will be ashes.
I'm my lungs own fascist.
The boa gets fatter, my face gets thinner.
Am I cursed or am I just a beginner..
Only one year in... now two.
The more I put it off the more the foot is on the other shoe.
It'll get harder to tie my shoes as my hands will get shaky as a recluse and I'll need another cigarette to soothe my broken body.
It's not naughty it's just bad.
Let this be a passing fad.
Alright dad...
I'll say,
I'm throwing the pack away.
Every time I look back I'll repeat this and hopefully through thick and thin, I'll never begin again.