It is easy to write

When surfaces grow shallow hollows 

And foreign notions embed themselves

A mind of its own functions 

It is all an attempt 

To keep coffee tables sturdy

The brown liquid

Encased in burgundy porcelain 

Steaming, tempting its addicts

To see a ripple is to see ugliness

Like peeling frayed layers back

Where skin is too pink

These ripples go on forever 

The orbital nature of a running mouth 

It is my truest horror

Spilling coffee is easy

But who’s to say there will be someone

To absorb and dab away

the stains