A cup of

I struggle to cast my eye On the coffee percolator And away from temptation. Is my desire for coffee Stronger than the desire for flesh? Or should I find someone Grown on the mountains of Columbia? Even when the coffee has gone cold And the bronzed skin has wrinkled old Will I still be confused and battle For salvation over satisfaction? Maybe when instant coffee Has lost is glamour and allure Then so shall longing for nightly thrills With nameless whispers of longing.

menoh

I am a button pusher. I stir up trouble. It is what I do. I live in the borders between light and dark. I can write about beautiful things, and joy and love, but I find I am more creative when i write about the dark. I love to hold a mirror up to the...

More about me