the curve of your yawning trap
filled with steaming essence
from Brazilian earth and sun
poured out for the forgetting of sleep
staining clothes, teeth, and attitudes
injecting your jittery goodness
allowing me to speak with dullness
on my tongue with neurons firing
faster than I can blink
by the third cup i have gone from
luxury to need - unhealthy habit
sending skull crushing pain in its place
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