Chipped up bananas with sauce the colour of an August sunrise.
Bent from clues across the globe, this place carries itself in it’s own hands.
Careful not to crunch in the dill, that spice is for the yellow rubber ducks. Free from speech because it’s expensive to make one. Or we’re not captured when we speak, only capturing audiences we can’t control.
I won’t buck at stars, but I will drink stars for a few bucks.
I will try not to do E and cough, but I will drink coffee.
Drinks are all the power in your system. Monsters, bulls with wings, even the captain sends morgan to connect with you. As hazy as that gets, they’ll always be the stars to drink, yeah it’ll cost you a few bucks, but the cost of clarity is indispensable.
My coffee had a belly.
It went under the second I swished it around it’s mug.
Or is it my mug?
It has more ownership being inside of it afterall.
That is not to say being inside a woman, you own her.
So maybe safe to say, it is the mug I am sipping out of and the coffee I have made to go in it, is just that.
It is it’s own identity and the mug and I,
I’ve been listening to slow jazz the past few days and I really like where it takes me .
It’s in elevators,airport lounges, in the background when you are sitting in a plane with 300 others, it’s under the tables of fancy restaurants, on a tv channel with the monthly events in the area scrolling down,
It has a way of making life feel important.
An unrust-like quality to it.
It makes the steam from my coffee and the dance in the candle flame,seem even more approriate.