Guilty pleasure

Everyday, in the early afternoon

I become a sinner.

Guilty pleasure.

Blind myself from recrimination,

Unseen, unseeing;

Indulging sets my spirit free.

I take you in,

You course through me 

Make yourself known

To every dendrite.

Unlocked, my imagination soars.

Each exhalation, slow exhilaration.

My enemy, my friend;

My Ava gardener.

I'm 150 years old;

“I wish to live to 150 years old, but the day I die, I wish it to be with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other.”