A fine mess of you sprawled into my mucus as would
I koff into 7 am without mercy
And still come to me
In 8:30 am and asks
“Please make me coffee, my love.”
All artworks by Artsydude
Poetry by O.a.M
All rights reserved by XenoPhagz
Once upon a purple moon,
All grounds were bought from a store,
Which the bucks were really quality star.
Of its ground sold everywhere, I loved it then.
Now I have to bare a granule of a tablespoon
only which to pour on a cup of mornings
that start my body to shake and shiver,
Only to deliver from 2 to 5 pieces of work.
Albeit to my hands,
It will starts like no other.
Only stressed emotions sparks all over
when this caffeinated mind works over.
Express me a coffee when it’s diluted by my own additives.
Of its beans that grinds my gears,
Of its grain that makes my nose tingle,
To the black water that makes me shiver,
From its aroma an elixir that only gods know how to make use.
Then after that taste of life does make sense, a bitterness that makes it sweet.
Only sugar and creamer sometimes makes it diluted with all of its robustness.