"Shitty Coffee"

     A flip of a switch, greetings from the cold uncaring buzz of the florescent light in the room you scrounged for too long to rent, its walls caked in too many layers of old eggshell white paint. No matter what is done that faint smell of mildew and desperation won't leave this place. The water looks better this morning, a faint tan tinge to it, and it shouldn't taste too awful as cheap coffee. Is this really better than the daily hustle that things used to be about? A "home" instead of crashing wherever, responsibly not recklessness, relationships instead of random hookups... Off to the dead end grind of "real life" with shitty coffee and dreams.