I can't write anymore,
so I feed myself caffeine
and listen to anthems for disaffected youth
on headphones
beneath the cluttered confusion of a coffeehouse.
The unsugared taste of espresso,
and slowly I milk a few words
from my pen.
Encased in my own sound-world,
claustrophobia grows
within the din of a public space.
The caffeine takes hold;
I feel my heart race.
