Hey Joe Whaddayah know?

My day begins.
With the pouring of beans into my coffee grinder,
I see the swirling sandy vortex of brown.
And it makes me think of tornadoes
and toilets.
I notice one ungrounded bean dancing on the precipice
of this brown hole
only to be sucked in and ripped apart.
Merged into one single collective.
And I think of how much of my life is
connected to this machine.
I have dominion over it every morning.
I am god to this machine!
I decide when to press and depress the button
And say ENOUGH!
Be it coarsely ground or a fine Powder.
I decide.
Am I merciful to the bean?
Or do I hold that button an extra moment
to bask in the screams of this massacre?
I hold it in longer of course.
I feel like a succubus
feeding off of their painful energies.
I can taste the suffering.
Fuck you beans!
Die for me!
So as I can live!
I shall awaken through your demise.
Consume your remnants as a spider would a butterfly.
Cold and callously taking what I want.
Simply because I can!
You've been tortured enough
by my grindings
and now I shall now boil you.
Does this make me a monster?
Who are you to judge me.
The bean killer.
As I pour the fine powder
into the filter,add the water,
press the button.
I noticed something very odd.
The bag says Pinto.
And my pot runneth over
with Chili water.
I now understand why omnipotence
should never be given to any man.

-Sky
If you like my poetry check out more of it at http://www.youvegottobefuckingkiddingme.ed...