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Description
The tiny back lot cafe
the source of my desire
where the grains of my life
are roasted by the fire

and as the coffee smolders
my senses soon will find
the bitterness of consciousness
descends upon my mind

the machine sputters hastily
as reality is strained
and drips through the ashen pile
and on its course is stained

decanted to a china cup
entrapped by walls of white
to keep it still, to keep it hot,
to keep it out of sight

the darkness of the void implodes
inside my little cup
a tiny piece of empty space
sucks down and fills me up.

Description
The tiny back lot cafe
the source of my desire
where the grains of my life
are roasted by the fire

and as the coffee smolders
my senses soon will find
the bitterness of consciousness
descends upon my mind

the machine sputters hastily
as reality is strained
and drips through the ashen pile
and on its course is stained

decanted to a china cup
entrapped by walls of white
to keep it still, to keep it hot,
to keep it out of sight

the darkness of the void implodes
inside my little cup
a tiny piece of empty space
sucks down and fills me up.