The Cup

By Kristof Gregor

Translucent fluid in my

   Half-finished cup

In numbers mugged of any flavour

   Much like the nightly delight

Indigo flowers and cigarette lovers and…

   Desolate mornings

My Evening Primrose turned to Sunray Daisy

In dependent sorrow I cling to it still

   Clinking and fervour of the serrated thrills

   Knives stabbing with pleasure but then…

      Exiting the wound, ill-conceited and rude

Peeking through the glass, I drink with

   Inbred class, sugar and water

Raising the flask, asking for a straw

   Missing the imminent flaw that used to make-flow

Pathetic and coarse, I'm the king pleading for a horse

   In exchange for my kingdom, control and righteousness

      A parent not shedding childishness, liquid excuse

Tie me to a straight in the middle of a square

Leave my body bare and in a month I might change my…

Direction, I'm just so tired of craving a distraction 

By Kristof Gregor