It's the clink of a bottle
On a hardwood table,
And the hiss of a cigarette
Being ground out.
It's the numbing warmth
Of just enough,
And the jagged,
Fuzzy edges
Of a little too much.
It's the things that keep me whole.
The things I was warned against
When I was growing up.
But they never tell you that
The things that are bad for you
Might be the only way
To keep your sanity.