I haven't had any revelations for almost weeks now but I still write to you.
It's almost Sunday and Sunday on fire baby, I have an abyss growing holes inside my heart,
I'd say the jet black coffee rinsed my kidneys pretty good these days.
My temple numbed from the halo rimming my favourite coffee mug.
Domingo en fuego.
You said "I'm not afraid of death," baby a burnt tongue on coffee later you said "There's so much to live for,"
The acid of caffeine corrodes the epithelium of my heart baby,
but you do not care
My atriums have traces of pukes from sleepless night baby
My soft brain all rotten, pooling by my feet,
spilled like coffee
I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm scared
You're so fickle but I like you
I like it
these nights seeps into me ever so slowly
I don't remember you quite like I did
three cups of caffeine ago
before fabrication of memory
loss through tears of yellowed bone with ease
and I recognize you once again
for you to soft fades into my dementia,
like endless lapses of broken tapes
and the way you scrunch your eyebrows each time you pronounce my three syllables name.
My revelation is a divine one
Fast and slow, stumbling, bloodshot eyes.
Not drunk, fucking sober but I write in tandem with nonsensicals.
If the shaking of anxiousness in the middle of the night
and tasting the bitterness of cheap coffee
could motivate me to survive
I'd let go of sanity and half of soberness
and let the bitter acid to corrode my inside wholefully to dust.
Baby I knew you thought it would be about you but halfway through I decided you were a mere distraction
and I, I've got bigger motives.
You don't even read, whatever.
I told you back there, my revelation's a divine one.
