Your various forms
of fragrant regret
(most recently,
matcha latte housed in
a future hideout)
is keeping me up
all. night.
Literally.
Flesh tiring just the slightest
but mind
on a rambling walk
building parallel thought universes
upon the foundation of
a mistake acknowledged.
For future reference,
when you're witless
in the face of tea lattes:
Drink only
the freshly brewed aroma.
Leave the poison
to the pros.
