Too Much Coffee

Gordon lets something slip that makes my job seem
Three cups of coffee and I
Can't think anymore
Body tipped on caffeine and adrenalin
I feel like the only person alive
Moving in slow motion past people who have
No clue.
I consider the balcony
Shut out the world with ear buds
Momma Miss America
Glorious drums and frightening reverb defining life
I fall into the flow outside and grab a building to steady myself
How can I not feel pretentious?
The singer asks what's the use of worrying
He answers: no use
Son of a bitch
Can't even use the f-word in this poem
Hurts so good
Too much coffee
Too much

© Poem Fix 2012
Photo: Poem Fix

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