my fingers curve to fit the yellow-stained, crack embroided cup filled with dirty coffee
so it contains the ugly words poets would never use, eyebags stolen from aching teenagers, puddles that rich man's mind fall into
so it contains dirt
i sip it through my lips, staining lipstick and ink on the ceramic perfection which cuts the perfection of my lips
be my guest, watch as i chug that drink brewed of river styx and dipped in gail, like rusalka's toes dip into the heart's blood seas
losing my breath, restlessly, relentlessly still going, i won't stop,
until the piercing in my eyes and the blurriness of my ears ceases to create pain
until the streets of new york play the devil's tango in a different language where the bible verses are cited and drip like honey from the sinner's tongue
i can feel my bone marrow becoming stale, i need to move still to hear the voices in a busy train, vivid colours of a favoutire song,
rhythmic stabbing of my soul playing the piano tunes i learnt as growing anew, sprouting
where will this desperation take me, as so when i lose the names of people that made me shave my legs, and the names of various types of tea that didnt fit in my cup, where this vile drink now sits, i will be in a place that peace is unheard of, and the small sipping noise is heard across the wall
