Simple pleasures

Nothing like the warmth of the cup between your fingers while you're walking the stairway. The pleasant aroma rising up your nostrils while rushing to unlock the door, only to be able to enjoy it a moment sooner. The first sip, hot and bitter form the absence of sugar or anything that would ruin the whole experience, carving it's way down your throat and screaming for the cigarette smoke to join in just a moment later. Then suddenly, the anticipation that something will happen, like puking up your lungs while the cough continues and when it stops the cycle goes on and on again. That's what I call morning. And there's nothing like a cup of hot, black coffee to snap you out of whatever gross and horrid dream you've been having.



Only to wake up and realize "Damn, it's not a dream! I really did that thing last night! Fuck me..."