Entirely Bad Poetry Part Two

The next installment of my 'Office Poems Epic Series'. Fortunately there is only one more which I can even bear to type up.

Fag Break

I stand in the cool freshness
Inhaling my stick of death.
Pyramids of red tiles
Dignified by their dotage
Overlap and jostle
Across the cityscape
On the edge of vision
An old monument to God
Flying rats perch on brick stacks
Daytime bats whistle forth and back
Smoke dribbles into clouds
From my mobile chimney
Peace is with the world.

What exactly were they thinking
When they bolted this terrace
To the top floor of our office?
A playground for executives?
Dragging hampers and business plans
To share sandwiches with ants?
Surprisingly, never happened.
Instead, a haven for us addicts.
We slip out wordlessly
Protected by the silent pact
To add to the heap of orange
Crumpled little relics.
Escaping, just for five minutes
The bright vigilance of monitors.

Erratic heart, hard arteries
High blood pressure, bronchitis
Emphysema, impotence
(Though I think that one's a joke)
Peptic ulcers, which sound lively
And the C word wherever you choose
Throat, lungs, lip or mouth.
Those the terms on offer.
I'll take them every time.