Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Aftertaste

The aftertaste of coffee is bittersweet
The memory of a flavor
And the knowledge that the caffeine is what's keeping you awake and warding off the oncoming headache
That you know you'll fight away with Advil washed down with more coffee (or a Venti green tea, you just never know.)
And here comes the cliche:
It's incredibly reminiscent of humans.
The aftertaste of Sandy Hook,
Lives lost and a marathon being run in support; a bombing at the finish line.
Please don't think I'm making a sick joke.
Nice things seem to get ruined a lot.
And the aftertaste can bring you back and bring you back and bring you back and
At this point, it seems domestic.
As in, not alien. As in, a citizen.
The aftertaste is getting less sweet and more bitter.
And so, like coffee, we need something to make it seem better,
We need a placebo,
But it might just be knocked back with another disaster, and
Maybe it will never take effect.
I didn't mean to bring a terrorist attack into this, I promise.
I've been doing my best to avoid it so that I don't go into panic mode
Because when I get involved,
I get scared.
(This is true for many things; not just people dying in horrible ways.)
(That probably means I'm not good at people because I'm scared.)
(You learn something new everyday. No. Who am I kidding, I know that.)
(I simply choose to ignore it because I'm scared of knowing myself. Tired of it, even.)
(Then why am I still writing?)
(Goddamnit.)

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