Ice-cream remnants pooled at the bottom of your bowl
Could drink it now but it would no longer be cold
Black coffee steam condenses closely on the lens
Flashes capture lines and hues, they gently blur and blend
Going slowly crazy and then quickly insane
Falling into dreams of the mentally deranged
Visions of the future in a dark, low resolution
Forecasting your evenings of short-lived absolution
A pure sugar high doesn’t let your brain know why
The sweetness no longer makes your tastebuds dance
With salt in your wounds is it hard not to choose
A shrunken core over fruitless romance?
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