The Fix

Is it safe to talk to you? To reach out for you? To be near you at all?

Or have you been at it again?

You know what I mean.
You pretend not to -- but we both know you do.

You're right; you don't get drunk.

You're right again; you don't do drugs.

But how many times this week have you been...to the coffee shop?

No, don't tell me you don't have a problem!
Because you're one person before your cappuccino fix...and a whole other person afterwards.

The brilliant mind I've always loved is reduced to a sludge of idiocy.
The kind, considerate person I admire becomes a monster.
And you go from the greatest use of my time...to the biggest waste of time.

How many coffees have you had today?
How much caffeine before you finally said, "Enough"?
Too much, I'm sure.

For like the alcoholic who drinks himself stupid and insists he's fine
Or the druggie who gets so high she can't come down without crashing
You are an addict.

Yet you refuse to admit you have a problem.

So go ahead...say you shouldn't have another mocha latte...then have another anyway.

Deep down -- not too deep -- inside, you know it's wrong. But it feels so right in the moment.

Except to everyone you drive away when the creature from the caffeine lagoon wreaks its havoc
While you sit back in blissful, coffee-soaked ignorance.

Just remember to tip your barista.