I catch my reflection in the bottom of my coffee cup. Yup, I'm fucked. Eyes of sugar and caffeine staring back at me. What do they mean? What did you mean to be by now? Only God knows how you made it this far. Through bars and cars and what is the point suicides and land slides The endless why why whys pins and needles continue to infect the reject to project and spread the never ending dread a wallflower's longing for a dance of the dead party hats and fancy gowns thrown on the ground as a foot path laid to the bed that you made wishing it was a cradle you curl into a ball pretend you are small and try hard to dream of fairies and kings in a land of beauty and grace to wake up to face you're not small at all but big and fumbling along a long road of whys in a kitchen of spies as you fill up your cup again.
