Coffee

I stuff myself into the cup of coffee

Neat and tidy and bitter

Sloshing over the edge

And between my lips. 

I swirl around myself

Like a little vacuum

Slurping up all the 

Indecently exposed pieces.

As the day goes on,

The bitterness fades

Leaving behind a shell 

In its wake.

And I’m left with just me again.

Dangerous. 

Sensitive. 

Fed up.

I’m left recalling every moment of the day 

(I forget nothing)

Deciding if I should care about it or not. 

But I’m too tired to care

Too tired to wonder

Too tired to sleep. 

And tomorrow morning 

I will shove myself once again 

Into that tidy coffee mug

And drink up 

My own bullshit.