death or coffee?

The first thought of the morning, that never skips a day.

Life never stops and I’m not in the right place—but maybe all I need is a cup of coffee!

But then my coffee comes out awful, like it is every morning.

Every morning,

there’s too much milk or too much sugar.

Every time the sun comes up, I only get up to make the coffee horrendous in any way I allow.

My coffee is never right, just like my time.

When will it stop already?

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make the coffee right.

I just need to sleep, maybe find a place where time can stop, until tomorrow.

• I wrote this the morning after I read the quote, (not) by Albert Camus, “Should I kill myself or have a cup of coffee?”