I wash down pills with black coffee

because cream and sugar is not a right

life is not a flight in coach

a pre-determined stretch of time

with a paid for destination

"we’ll be landing in 15 minutes"

the masterplan of life 

is not orchestrated by a violinist playing a harp

with precise plucks of harmonic strings

it is the linoleum floor

of the lonely cat lady’s kitchen

bodies rushing over and under

dissonant mewls of the hungry 

reaching fingers up

to blindly sweep the top of the shelf

even when all that is found

is dust and forgotten memories

I plan to win the jackpot of life

but so a few billion other souls

a concept I cannot grasp

like linear algebra and when to flip pancakes

but when I wash down my pills with black coffee

I feel connected to the yearning souls

a root in an ancient forest

unable to alleviate bitterness

because splenda is not my lot in life

and it was really interesting and well-written, up until the last two sentences:

A goat dies of anthrax in Turkey. A young woman in a small Scottish town must always wear trousers.”

…kay then.

Canvas  by  andbamnan