Her pale, trembling hands grasped the coffee mug,
as if it was the savior of her soul
Her vein pumped to the erratic rhythm
of her heart
of worse things
found in her head.
The coffee traveled along the vessels
that fueled her heart even faster, heavier
and turned her mind into something
Yet she sipped and sipped
because the coffee also made her mind smarter
She would think quicker, deeper
and her heart continued to race.
Another mug now
because her mind had stopped thinking
and she was left with the remains:
crashed, somber, shallow, bitter.
Her fingers jerked when picking up another cup
This wasn't an addiction, this was a need
She needed her mind to keep going, to keep working
jumping from one idea to another
so quickly that she would not be able to form
a solid thought.
Her shaky hand now picked up a pen
and her imagination turned it into a quill.
She sat down to write prose,
her pulse beating faster still.
She returned to the kitchen
A new pot of coffee had just brewed.
She poured herself another cup
but never drank it.
The tingle in her fingertips had jolted to her arms
and the jerking movement of her arms brought a sharp pain to her chest
and her chest pain shot straight to her heart
and now her head held perfect, permanent clarity.