A ground,

Dark brown

Unapologetic substance.

The strength is the addiction,

A drug without prescription.


Habit forming,



Not as serious, of course.


But your head can pound 

Without its force.


Then they sweetened you,

Added sugar and cream,

Watered you down,

Your force, they drowned.


They don’t want you bitter,

Though the world made you that way,

They want what you do for them,

To get them through the day.


You poor, poor thing.

How I wish I could hold you,

Tell you you’re perfect,

Tell you you’re fine.


You belong to you,

Your use is not mine.


Maya likes pasta.