finding ashes in cushions

there's a certain karma i can't shake, you see
it's the smoke it infiltrates my skin
and i give up for
sullen and incompetent arguments.
i'm tired, you see,
i've tried inhaling the past but
it just comes back in waves;
you're a catchphrase you can't use;
in certain ways i feel sorry.
again i can't shake myself off
because when i look at you
i think i recognize myself