Diary of a Chain-Smoker

Don't we all feel this way? No? Maybe it's just me then...

The fragile embers flicker out
As they float into the tray
The ash drops off the tip of my 'butt'
Like another discarded day.

The heater burns straight down to the filter
So I stop and light up another
I live vicariously through my cigarettes
Like a gifted daughter's mother.

I sit and watch the swirling mass
It rises up like the Holy Ghost
The haze is like a foggy mirror
And I see my life go up in smoke.

I could put it out, stand up and go
I could walk right through the door
But I can't leave til the ashtray's full
So I guess I'll have one more...