The STEPS

A while now, I have tried to keep from writing

pentameter. It's like a habit I've

been trying to kick, when every foot in five

steps down a line. It's like a jones I'm fighting,

the cigarette I stop myself from lighting,

a deathwish my addiction keeps alive,

but I can't help myself. Do I derive

warped pleasure from my versifying, the biting

& chewing of my musings into neat,

pre-packaged utterances? & Since when

is truth a tally of iambic feet,

enumerated rigidly on ten

quick-bitten digits? Why do I repeat

this pattern? Shit, I've just relapsed again.