Twisted seemingly sentient psychotic temptations
Fill soggy mind only to burst through closed lids
Much to his dismay soaks his face to sour his coffee
Thoughtfully preferring sugar to salt any day in his beverage of choice
Twitching, neatly twisted lips easily pull creases into worried brow
Furrows familiar with routing sweat born on perturbed thoughts
Be ye poignantly apprehensive oh being of shallow spark!
Stained coffee reflection stares back offering no solace
Averted eyes avoid the tell tale signs reflected in passerby eyes
Words born on emotions wandering oar are still only words
Spoken by oft-loose tongues once slippery with religions devices
Thoughts past thrust into futures dreams
While remembrance shadows thrive
Coerced forward, tomorrow turns and he thinks perhaps all is but minds flatulence
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