Flavored Coffee 
  
In a dark, secluded 
Corner of the world, 
Without much clean air, 
There lives a being. 
A lonely, dejected, sadistic 
Hermit. 
Sitting all day on his 
Isthmus of terra firma 
A wasteland so familiar, 
So near and dear to him. 
With Locus as his music 
And Flies giving kisses 
He wanders through the ebb, 
Kicking and screaming. 
A cynical snicker. 
Then sobbing screams 
Unheard. 
Tears drop to the dust, 
Poison tears 
And pain 
And forgotten love 
And c y a n i d e coffee. 
His cries unheard 
And now there is nothing. 
  
3/99 
  
1999 © Joshua Golden