A while now, I have tried to keep from writing
pentameter. It's like a habit I've
been trying to kick, when every foot in five
steps down a line. It's like a jones I'm fighting,
 
the cigarette I stop myself from lighting,
a deathwish my addiction keeps alive,
but I can’t help myself. Do I derive
warped pleasure from my versifying, the biting
 
& chewing of my musings into neat,
pre-packaged utterances? & Since when
is truth a tally of iambic feet,
enumerated rigidly on ten
quick-bitten digits? Why do I repeat
this pattern? Shit, I’ve just relapsed again.