Caffeine by Charles Womble

Caffeine.

Drowsiness fell upon her as she sat slumped into her studies. Her hair was knotted, and sweats were stained. She was out of gum, out of mints, aggravated over the way her head split. She sat amongst a crowd of cups, not a single one of which were filled up. Her teeth were tinted beyond repair, the roof of her mouth like cotton, and her breath was as tart and earthy as the beans themselves. Yet her hand twitched, and her forearm itched, at the sight of the great green emblem of energy. She rubbed the dark rings around her eyes deeper into her skin and stared at her computer screen. Nonetheless her gaze would break, and her bloodshot eyes would dart back to the jungle of bodies hoarding together, all in need of satisfying their thirst to wake. The smell drove its way into her nostrils and brewed inside her brain, begging her body to throw itself into the carnage. Fight like the others it told her, get your fix, think of the sweet cream sweeping away your stress, the tall blonde blend standing your blonde hairs on end, the chocolate and milk driving your will to go on, into the night like a steam powered machine, never sleeping, never weeping, only breathing with heart fast beating, hour after hour, continue reading, thoughts still breeding, the life she lives, It’s not worth leading. She hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since she left home, and she left home two months ago. Read, breathe, caffeine, repeat. Beat she says, I’m beat she says. I need to sleep she says.