When Isn’t It Enough

 Most of the time I’m drinking two cups of coffee, one cold, one new, and thinking about a recent lull moment I’ve had. 

Wondering how far I could’ve gone down the deep-end; just self-loathing once again. 

Maybe it’s because I haven’t taken a nice self-reliant drag of a cigarette in a while,

and this whole quitting-for-health-reasons-phase isn’t so much a phase anymore than just a new subject in another new chapter.

I have the gut feeling that I’ll continue to find the urge to accept the vices of my tendencies, to feel like I can rearrange the past with a

new cigarette, a new hope, and an old faith embedded in my veins.


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