8.6.2023 - Black Coffee

8.6.2023
Black Coffee

Mouth welling with bitterness,
I rinse a cup under the tap.
Filled with ashes and emptiness,
Existence is a trap.
I drink my coffee sweet as candy,
Sugar, cream, heavy whipped foam.
It’s my modus-operandi,
At play, at work, and at home.
I know enough of black coffee.
I breathe in the scent of beans and blood,
Smell of char, of night, of toffee,
Green growing things before the Flood.
This bile darkened tang and taste,
Original to myself and I.
Flowing midnight in veins to be traced,
Lips twisted into mirth and wry.
Dashing dregs onto cobblestones,
I lather my hands.
I feel the singing in my bones,
True as the moon and sands.
A cup of cold black coffee.