Smell the coffee

Tender sips of hot coffee

I attempt to wake up

Pick the crust from my tear ducts

Tongue nudges over the sides of my mouth

Small intimate rituals

Formed and performed unannounced

Tangled hair tucked behind my ear

Then it begins

The realisation

This is life.

I am here.

Where though exactly?

A random rock,

Circling, turning, suspended just so?

A slab of mineral floating

Some place stuff just occurred

And has been ever since

And that stuff just so happens to do stuff

Which now I, here,

Cast judgement on and sentence,

For some reason,

Into categories of good or bad

Right or wrong

Blurry concepts - nonsense

Vague, inconsistent

And others like me do the same

Like a game of value bingo

Trying to make a match

Trading judgements

We hate that too!

What about that makes sense?

If there is ultimately no point

Stuff happens, then stops

Life sparkles into existence then fades

Like the vapours of my coffee

Lingering only as a thought

In some other random, fleeting mind

On the same random fucking rock

I must still be dreaming

Another tentative sip

Wake up