grounds and ice : return

I’m not aware of my blood sugar
I don’t have a number velcroed to my arm
If I feel low, I eat
(Maybe I get this from my mom)
I’m aware that I need sugar
I need energy
Something sweet that’ll stay in my belly
In order to power the battery that is me
And my needs and my plans and
My energy?
Is dependent on what I eat
Or in this case, drink
But it’s an addiction, isn’t it?
Well, it is addicting
Caffeine, they call it
They say it’s a drug in the form of liquid copper
Conducts electricity through the body
Powering the cells more than mitochondria
It’s valuable, but not irreplaceable
Yet, I can’t seem to not go without it

I don’t feel its pull
(Maybe I’m lying to myself)
I don’t understand the dependence
(I don’t drink enough of it)
I don’t frenzy myself
Or depress into bed
When I don’t get a shot of it
My hands clutching at the plastic like a lifeline
An IV that’s directly pinched beneath my skin
I am‒
I’m not like that.

I simply pull out the straw from it’s paper
Protective layer
I sip then smile because
It’s dopa-mine
Caramel syrup and oat milk-y
Warmness yet cold on my tongue
Tastes better than the sweat on my lips
It doesn’t make my belly warm
The ice chips widen my eyes and
Cool my neck leaving pinpricks
Now look at me, I’m jittery again for about
15 minutes?
The time I lose track of
As I scroll around and take a few more sips.

After a few minutes of digestion
There isn’t a jolt
A kick to my abdomen,
An impulse, a drive, the sudden heaving of the wheel in my head
As I go 140 down my mind’s N-95
A sudden heaving in my chest as my pupils dilate
My movements more fluid and quick like the sloshing of my drink when
I flex a reflex to keep from dropping it as I unlock my door and
There’s little stains on the floor that I haven’t seen before
My work is waiting for me in my room.

That high always ends when I stop sipping
The contents have settled into warm layers
like the dirt it is
And I’m left staring at my to-do list
And next to it
My unfinished coffee cup.
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