When her attire was grand
and she bade a purr if she'd kneel
that she was grave and joined in communion
with anesthesia she grouped a gown
though brilliant in blue here today.
Only whir less until she utter best
that her oath is for him more and more
and like friut prospers inherently in wine.

The ******* the train is nothing more
Than an illusion, or perhaps a delusion;
What is she, if not the bitter, bitter dregs,
The last of the burnt coffee, gone cold,
The watered down scrapings off the bottom
Of the cup we call life?

Two cardinals bathe in the creek as I'm lost in thought about how beautiful you seem to me

The cup cried coffee tears,
Spilling over behind pale lips,
Pouring its soul down the throat
Of my sleepless addict.

I wanted a cup of coffee
not the whole ***
leave the rest for someone else

Absent of thought,
I wait for the meal
that we know too well.
I know the noodles
will seem undone,
the flavor will remind
of times past where I knew
nothing better than easy food,
but I brought it anyways.
I don't want a photo
of my childhood,
I just want lunch.

Red Cup Red Cup, colorless backdrop
Just filled with water as its poured with the last drop.
Red Cup, Red Cup all packed with water
But the Red cup gets picked up and cracks at the bottom.
Red Cup, Red Cup, but black and white all around
The man holds it up and a drop falls to the ground.
That drop that drop, like a slow motion  flood
Is thrown to the ground with an ominous thud.
Red cup, Red Cup, now past its peak fullness
As the man sheds a tear for his entire life’s dullness.