Eh, coffee

There are many things that go through my mind when I’m out of French vanilla for my mandatory cup of coffee/ yeah, in the in-betweens of the afternoon. If I stick yellow Post-it notes on every inch of my body, technically I’m not naked & therefore a non-hostile person buying groceries/ jaywalking sure/ you only get a ticket if you’re wearing a wig or your first words were “meow” in fuchsia like grammar/ also I’m not biased against colourful Post-it notes. My insides are made up of kanji in cool calligraphy air & the smell of freshly cut wood is the same as throwing tantrums for neohuman shortcomings/ throw me in a pile of toothpicks & I’ll apologize till my breaths turn into running water/ I’ll fuel a pool party & you can invite all the cool kids/ to feel me up/ free me. You know, I saved good amount of $s by sticking milk in my coffee/ it’s like cremating false hopes to their own background music, right on the tip of my tongue. Man, do they put corn syrup in everything?/ greedy kings in cars is like admitting your hatred for horses/ also you can’t fight everyone & beasts are lousy kissers when unloved/ true.

Nooks Krannie is a girl/person poet from Canada. She’s half-Persian/half-Palestinian. Her words have appeared in Alien Mouth, Potluck and Wu-Wei Fashion Mag. She loves a lot and too much. Her website:

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