smoke addiction

My windows are filmed with the grayish-brown haze of six months of american spirits. I'm sure it's from the smoke because the panes are darkening on the inside. I try to quit the habit, but like most addictions it will likely only happen if the cigarettes literally get up and leave me.

Oliver Sacks, the neurologist, wrote a great description of addiction. I chopped it up into a poem:

Addiction
Is
A self-induced catatonia
A repetitive
Action Action
Bordering on hysteria.

It's pretty dead on. It's most apparent on rainy days when me and my fellow addicts huddle under every available awning, shuffling, shuffling to keep our catatonic feet out of the wet. We pass forth lighters and dark wit, trying to forget how fucking retarded we are, staying dry to kill ourselves. Hysterical.