No End In Sight

Vodka noticed on my breath
Cigarettes, impending death
I find it difficult to care
A sure end would be more than fair

So much to absorb and abuse
But I still listen to my Muse
She warbles that I should abstain
And I listen to her sweet refrain

I notice the tears in her eyes
And strike a deal to compromise
I give up on the booze and smoke
But still see how my life is now a joke

If I can't manage a decent write
It's best to travel with the night
But much to my Muse's relief
My efforts will persist beyond belief.