New Year Resolution.

After the thrills of New Years Eve
Where will the vices go?
All cast away by resolution,
Retentively foretold; 

The cigarettes will sit in line,
And wait and long for adult paw,
To take their infant paper hands, instead
They linger
Like dusty children
Discarded on linoleum streets,
Gathering fluff on shelves
In the newsagents. 

The chocolate will writhe,
In tinfoil coffins,
Accompanied by Victoria Sponge,
She’s exhausted from life;
Her raspberry soul seeps over the ancient
Sell-by date, and
Poor Fish and Chips now only have
Their oily pond to flail in -
Never to provide their carbohydrate Raison d’être,
No consumer. 

For where will Gluttony go?
She’s distraught without your desires,
She’ll fracture,
Dwell under your skin, your
Pulp will thicken and turn into a
Mire – she’ll swell - and
Summon Beelzebub!
And insect hands will flee your mouth-
Your lungs will bloat to an orphanage;
And your gut will twist to a shack,
Another millennium charity shop,
Beware! For
Where do vices truly go?
Beware.