In the middle of a long path
I regurgitate some leftovers from the night before
Pretend I am handsome in my self-deprecation
And nurse a cup brimful with sour days
He has the habit to smack his head protestingly
Recites his epic lamentation,
“They are”
“We are”
“Those people”
“Our problem is…”
“They, Them”
“We, I”
“They should”
And if only.
On the last turn,
I get a glimpse of home,
Staring back with indifference,
Smiling disapprovingly of the way I combed my hair
They never fail you, those moments
Telling you how they:
“Told you so!”
“What to expect!”
“Alas!”
“All in vain”
And it’s useless
Revenge isn't served in this café,
Someone got greedy and claimed it all,
Selling it for free,
If only one can afford it
Running away from his tormentor,
Licking bitter words,
“Stay away!”
“Will join soon”
“You are lucky”
“Why you are here?!”
And I will flee
I look at the bottom of the glass,
The last drop of loathing bubbles
Drowning slowly in mid-dream
Gliding towards the face…
