Coffee, Pooetry

Foul Foretelling

Good old coffee, it keeps me awake.
I’m on cup five, here comes the quake.

But coffee keeps me fired and alert.
Too many now, I need to brownly squirt.

No time to doze, and certainly no time to snooze.
My caffeinated fuel has a foul exhaust to use.

The caffeine is good, the caffeine is great.
But my underpants now have a sealed fate.

One last swig of the magical liquid gold.
And the beast floods forth, as once foretold.

Pure Pooetry

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