To Die For

I like to smoke but I don’t know why.
I spend lots of money and want to cry.
I’ve burned lots of clothes, now I just sigh.
I’ve bummed from strangers even though I’m shy.
~
I’ve smoked cigars, but butts good bye.
I know smoke a pipe, looks good with a tie.
I can’t smoke on planes, so I don’t fly.
It makes me cough but I don’t get high.
~
I became addicted in the blink of an eye.
I stole packs from my parents, thought I was sly.
I shared them with friends, how cool was I.
I’ve hidden it from family just like a spy.
~
But if you need a light, I’m your guy.
If you need answers I’ll say don’t pry.
I can’t quit today so I won’t try.
Maybe tomorrow, but we know that’s a lie.

~*~
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Peccadillo

Internet addiction comes in many forms.
Some quite explicit but most fit the norms.
My own peccadillo doesn’t seem so very bad.
It often makes me happy and rarely makes me sad.
~
I fantasize of beauty, this I will admit.
I love shape and form with a dash of wit.
Though some look unnatural with parts all askew,
their faces slapped together are seemingly taboo.
~
Pages scroll before my eyes as I stare in awe.
Wasted time’s a problem but not against the law.
Ads fill my mailbox, an embarrassment to see.
Each has a pitch but nothing’s ever free.
~
Though I’ve spent no money or caught some disease,
my constant oohs and aahs can cause some unease.
I may have my issues but certainly I’m no louse.
I’m just very anal looking for a house.

~*~
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Bang

I pulled a trigger and I’m not proud.
There was no blood but it sure was loud.
I said some things I shouldn’t have said.
Words shot out and stuck in their head.
~
My friends’ brain exploded, oh what a mess.
It was a poor choice of words I do confess.
I brought up a secret from long, long ago.
I thought it resolved but I guess not so.
~
Should I be silent or edit my speech?
What is OK and what’s out of reach.
I’m sure they’ll call when the wound heals.
I’ve been there before, I know how it feels.
~
Years have gone by with never a slip,
while I watched them drown, sip by sip.
Was it so bad to call them a drunk?
Am I a bad guy, an ass or a punk?
~
I know it’s a sickness and not their fault.
But why’s intervention seen as an assault?
When they’re sober maybe then they’ll see,
they pulled that trigger long before me.

~*~
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