Vice

Vice

my vices
stubbornness
and stupidity
keep me
from her
the only one
perhaps the only 
corporeal thing
i love

my vices
keep me here
doing this
and keep me
elsewhere
alone
wandering
wondering
agonizing
over her
and them
and if
they're worth it

these vices
the integer
keeping things odd
instead of even
never knowing
if one
the other 
or both
is better
or even
any
different

these vices
the gritty filth
under the nails
of one who labors
who sins
who suffers
who
if nothing else
learns
better
from his 
failures
by experience
instead
of being scolded
like a silly 
scared schoolchild
by scripture

i am sorry
dear lover
for how much 
i still love
the dalliance
with my vices
perhaps 
even more
than i love you

i am sorry
for how these vices
keep us apart
keep me here
writing with venom
while you
are somewhere else
praying for me

maybe
these vices
aren't mere transgressions
maybe
they're symptoms
of a far more
fundamental
divide
of a born mutt
bred for
smoking
drinking
cursing
leering
from time
to time
a recreational
reprobate
who can't always be
what he
is not

perhaps this mutt
bound by its breeding
needs the company
of other mongrels
the drunks and gamblers
in smoky bars
filled
with sinful songs
and clumsy
and artful dodgers
who let him know
he's not alone
though 
having her
beside him
at night
might do
a similar
trick
if not for
his 
vices