3 a.m. cake and day-old coffee

I can’t afford the kind of love you sell
But I can’t afford to ever watch you leave
Won’t you come and put your sugar on my tongue
You’ve got your spell on me…

~*~

i would pretend

that it’s to mask

the bitterness

and overpower

it with even more

bitter grounds,

or to dislodge

the hard lumps

forming in my

drying throat,

but i’m not that

deluded or fucking

melodramatic—

or maybe i am.

the cloudy creams

of ivory frosting

melts with a touch

of tawny coffee,

perspectivism

and disillusions

blending madly

as i sit there,

stuffing my rictus

with pastries in

the darkness, like

a total gluttonous

shameless piece

of poison pie.

i am disgusting;

but i’m merely

enjoying crumbs

and leftovers of

my ant-eaten sanity,

trying to kill time

and soured anxiety

with decadent sugar

and innocent tongues,

all while attempting

to ignore the fact

that the immense

sweetness makes me

want to throw up.

and i indulge in the last

few poignant pieces

of a humbled life,

before this cold cake

and day-old coffee

becomes my final meal.

~*~

I’m the only one who knows
The secret places that the light don’t show
(The light don’t show) You know…

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s