Time ran out of all probability
Of us colliding another time
But this obdurate mind
Hasn’t run out of words
With convincing possibilities 
Always keeping it busy
Impulses pulse in new rhymes
Throbbing in my head all the time 
I pour them out in my cup of tea,
That you’ll never be,
But these rhymes, they are. 
They come to me
At the oddest hours 
And in the most bizarre 
Unsettling states of mind.
They etch against my midnight coma
Like a howling wolf against the moon.
And here I am awake on a hot night of June.
Sipping on my chamomile
Replaying the second I let you steal
My thoughts and juggle with the keys 
To the butterflies caged in my guts.
With concentrated ambience of your cigarettes
Exhaled from your burning core 
I taste a hint of you in the thick smoke.
And my mind collects it
Before I can forget it
Since then it seasons my tea
With your tobacco regularly 
And I stir in more musings for sugar
Sweet daydreams that mustn’t linger.
Humming my tunes with toes dancing atop my desk
I only know my mind is doing its very best
To keep me happy
Despite reality
Constantly waving in my vision
Like a rusted pendulum 
Of a clock that has worked for centuries 
Gifting me with miseries 
What a childlike mind
With such strong believing 
In distracting and healing
But the words won’t stop pouring
Till my teacup is overflowing 
And they’re dripping from the corner of the table 
And my eyes shimmer with the truth
Seep through your gravel 
And soften you some.
Alas! Just some more fables
More lies, more lullabies.
More sugar in my tea
Much more than I need. 
The stirring sound is louder now
Vigorous, excessive, desperate 
To drown out the buzz in my head
So I can focus instead
On the scent of my chamomile 
So my wings are chopped and I am reminded
What is my cup of tea.
When I stop humming
The room is silent and I’m alone
Sitting gazing at low hues through the window
And my tea is all spilled on the floor
And the cup, broken.

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