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,
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.