A Short Abstinence (Poetry)

Dear Diary, I am flagging, my resolve's severely stressed,
it's a week since my last cigarette and I have done my best
not to nibble at my fingernails or chew revolting gum
as a substitute, but honestly, I fear the time will come
when I give in to this craving, for today I saw a bloke
on the train and sat beside him just so I could sniff his smoke.

And the diet means I only watch channels I and 2
for the food ads on the others get my tastebuds in a stew
and I have hallucinations - I see doughnuts and eclairs
that tempt me from shop windows with their come on, eat me stares.
No pizza, no MacDonalds, Kentucky Fried or curried chips -
no low fat yoghurt thrills me half as much as walnut whips.

I avoid close male encounters like smooth Stuart, head of sales,
with his E-type in the carpark and his timeshare in south Wales,
then there's Joe in engineering - christened Holey by his friends -
wants to show me his new piercings and we all know where that ends.
Trainee Tim, a health fanatic, thinks he's helping me to quit
junk food, fags and fellas and has got me to admit

that self-discipline's the answer, so I play his tapes and fast -
exercise some self-control that probably won't last
for there's a Kit-Kat in the cupboard and ten Silk Cut in the drawer
and I'm yawning sick of Yoga - my bum's bigger than before -
so when Stuart rings I'm ready for an overdose of bliss
and the relief of giving up was never quite so good as this.