No sugar. No cream.
Straight black, right out of the ***.
Still hot. For it is bold. Has a bite.
All dark. For the sun has still yet to rise.
No added *******. No flavor.
Just roasted beans. Mean. The way it should be.
More than warm through my throat.
On in to stir up my heart.
It pumps like gasoline. Igniting my withered dreams.
Another day. Another brew.
No sugar. No cream.