"Addicted" by Kenneth Larot Yamat

I'm trying to quit smoking with a patch,
but the fucking thing hardly works: it just
makes me want to smoke more. I light a match
and bring the flame to my cigarette. Trust

me, if I could go back in time to when
I didn't smoke I would do it, never
start in the first place. I'd smile a sly grin
for not dying and living forever,

or at least longer than I would without
smoking. I take a puff and the smoke burns
the back of my throat. I earnestly doubt
that I'll stop smoking. Which way my life turns:

if I quit or if I get cancer and
die, whatever it is it won't be planned.

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