It must be this third cup
of coffee that has me on
edge. But not to confuse
anxiety for indigestion.
I’m sick to my fucking stomach.
Maybe you could be a little sweeter?
I said, maybe you could pass the sweetener.
I’m not one to stir the pot,
but I need something fresh.
This is stale, and the grinds
taste like pennies.
My spit is red.
The best part of waking up,
is having a pot to piss in,
to have a glass half full,
but who is the fool?
The fool is the man,
that runs out of coffee filters,
and uses toilet paper,
instead.
I drink my coffee black.
It’s an absolute.
Why mix cream?
When I don’t believe,
everything is so black,
and white.
The Dotted Line 