There is a new world evolving in the bottom of my coffee cup. I have been watching it for a week now. It is dry, arid. Lifeless. The cracked plane of dried coffee crystals is coated with an oil slick. A chocolate coloured snowflake spreading outwards and upwards. Each day I look at it, and then put it back on the universe of my desk. It seems as though it belongs there, a china and acrylic paint star in orbit around the white-lit Flatron sun.
If I drowned the coffee cup world, tried to erase it from existence, it would eventually release itself from its porcelain crust. It would not dissolve; it would float to the surface, still a perfect flat disc. I allay the thoughts of ruin. I allow the world another day. Tomorrow I will look at it again. Contemplate its future. Return it to its universe next to the spent pen satellites and the single-serve milk-portion asteroid belt.
I am here but I am not here. Mostly I am not here. My body is here, I am an expert at multi-tasking. My brain and body types, carries, sorts, files and collates. My heart and soul explores, creates, wonders and longs. There I am, and yet, there I am not.
aching arc ashphalt Atrophy barrage biting blood boot breath cavern chemicals chill click compel crimson dead delete dire ember embolism endure falters fantasy globules gnawing hammer haunting heartbeat horrific icy idiot inspire intent kitten lips love Luscious macabre matted panicked passion powerhouse purge resonated scent seisure shatter slithered sorceress splats staggers stings strangers sucking tempting terrified thistles tortured Victorian vile vixen