I started drinking coffee because

I wasn’t depressed,

Every day was just incredibly exhausting

And every task just felt insurmountable


But with my heart caffeinated and pittering as fast as a hummingbird’s

I was a wind-up toy able to lift my arms and legs and

Smile weakly at the right times and say half the right things



As the last caffeine would leave my bloodstream at the end of the day,

I’d retreat to my mattress,

Turn on both hot, salty taps,

And cry.


Now I take a pill, 8 am, half white half green.

It facilitates serotonin’s chemical reactions in my brain.

When I started treatment, a couple people noticed

That I looked more rested, energized. Caffeinated.


But I still drink coffee, black, 3 cups daily.

Black coffee tastes like woodchips.

I CRAVE woodchips.

At least I’m addicted to something

That’s warm and comforting held in my cold hands

Something I can fidget with at work

An ingestible, smooth security blanket

That makes me look alive and awake.