Another coffee. This time, mean.
I need it. Sometimes.. I
Need escape, the Road. More like
All the time. Too much
Domesticity. Equalling writer
Death. Breathing, paired with free
Scribbles, getting me there
Sooner. If I hurry, them the moment’s
Truer. Both reality and the paginated.
Not trying to “network” for scores of
Obnoxious net worth. Finally,
Quiet. Older me, not liking much
Company. But then swarms, suddenly.
Annoyed. Would rather have void. Self