A compulsory breather is needed.
To keep myself sane,
to maintain a calm outlook.

Coffee: The essential material for crafting the happy face mask.

Why my favorite coffee cup
You delight my soul
The roundness of your body
As you fill me with your taste
The texture of your glace
When I put you to my lips
And though I bought you In a shop
With money from my labour
I know you never
Truly
belong to me

Who am I in this vast, open earth of different species
A species of the human race created from a clot of blood in the womb of a woman
One of a billion or more humans all created in the same way
But why was I created, what is my purpose on this vast earth
For surely nothing was created without purpose, otherwise why create at all?

So I was born in a hospital somewhere and there was happiness all around upon my arrival.
A new addition to the family someone to carry on the family name
I came into this world crying and all around me people were laughing with joy
If my arrival brought happiness why was I crying so much?
And so begs the question who am I and why was I created?

Like all humans, I was given a name to identify and make me unique.
Different cultures have different ways and different ceremonies to name their newborns.
But how come of all the species on this earth only human beings have names
Why don't animals, birds, insects who also produce offspring don't give names

So why was I created and what is my purpose on this earth?
I am still trying to find that out, just like a billion other human beings
After all, it cannot be that we were just put here on this earth
Everything that is here was put here for a purpose, a reason

I am sitting at a roadside café relishing the taste of freshly brewed coffee.
The waiter who brings me my coffee and croissants knows why he is there
To ensure the food and drinks I have ordered get to me on time
The right things are delivered to the right people at the right time

I also know why I am at the roadside café sipping hot coffee and enjoying hot delicious croissants.
I am searching for the answer to my lifelong question
Who am I?
I gaze deeply into my coffee, hoping to find the answer there
But all I see is a hot brown liquid with a fresh sensory smell

Coffee is funny.
It makes your heart race,
your eyes wide,
your mind loud.

But sometimes,
it makes you calm.
It feels warm,
like quiet inside.

So, what is coffee really?
To wake us up?
Or slow us down?

Maybe it depends.
Maybe it's just there
when we need something.
Something to hold.

I was sitting at a table in a café when she walked in.

I said, “Hey, good-looking stranger— would you like a cup of coffee?”

We were laughing, drinking coffee—

when suddenly, she caressed me.

We were heading straight to the wedding—

then I woke up, needing coffee.

It's ******* disturbing.

I wake up tired,
My body aching.
I just stop sleeping.

News, coffee.
Planet encyclopedia,
Thesaurus cigarettes
And dictionary breakfasts.
Slices of rhetoric
With some kind of spread of intellect -
For lunch?
Dissertative sandwiches.

Grains of perspectives
In something over-marinated.
I just stop eating.

It matters not.

We sit in the coffee shop—
laughter spilling loud,
hearts full,
like the beans brewed deep in our cups.

For a fleeting moment,
we set the world right,
and nothing exists
beyond us four
and this tiny corner
of time and space.