Litter and disease surround the greedy as they rodentiate below.

Must be garbage pick up tomorrow morning for so many disgusting piles of refuse to line the sidewalk,
dripping their toxic sludge into the sewer system along the street.

I turn away from the street to look into the apartment,
sickened by my own diseased view of the world,
a view of myself,
a view of nothingness personified,
though the pain begs to differ.

Her burden I carry alone,
a pain I must inhale at least 100 times a day.

It never ends,
but it subsides;
though just long enough to let temptation carry me back to the next moment of death I spark a few hours later,
if I'm lucky enough to withstand such a length of time away from her clutches.

I look down onto the stone where memories fade into blood starved stains I continue to cough out,
as the seriousness of the evidence within each cough becomes more apparent.

I search for my cane as I slide the door open.

She releases another charming bark,
as I rest her pain along my fence.

The cigarette floats away into the gutter as the last cloud of smoke dissipates into the air below.

The smell of the wet tobacco coupled with the lingering odor of the smoke lures my naive canine to my fate; if only she had thumbs.

She smiles passed me as she leads me to her next adventure.

Her lively leaps linger in my mind and draw wrinkles to my withered skin as I smile at her,
unleashing a slew of playful barks.

I cough again.

My chin feels wet.

I wipe it away with my hand.

The reddened saliva in my palm now undeniably alerting me of the pain behind my ribs that I somehow managed to ignore with my arm's comforting grasp.

It hurts.

My ribs hurt.

Breathing hurts.

I’m not breathing.