coffee at ccd

i’m small and in a small white cup on a small white saucer. the sort they pour and serve 25 ml shots of coffee in. i’m wearing a white arrow shirt i bought for Rs. 40 off the road with my favourite black jeans - pepe 73s, they’re worn out, frayed near the boots and have a small hole in the right pocket. on them, i’m wearing my black levi’s beatnik jacket. it’s not really a beatnik jacket, it’s just that with time i’ve made it one. the pockets have holes in them. i realize all my clothes are damaged. it’s got no significance, they just are. i’m standing barefoot in the cup.

suddenly, the white starts going grey. i look up and realize it’s a giant shadow. a giant jug is approaching the cup held by a giant hand. it all looks like slow mo to me because i’m smaller and time passes slower for me. a great steaming dark brown wave appears out of the jug. it approaches and finally splashes over me. it splashes over my face. its heat blinds me. i feel my face melting. i taste it. it’s bitter. in my veins, it kills my pain. i observe, objectively, what’s happening to me. it stains my shirt, spotless white goes a shit brown. the skin beneath burns. it chars my exposed palms. there’s a stinging pain in my feet. as it settles on the bottom, the coffee burns my feet past the skin, past the tissue and finally past the bone until i can’t stand anymore. as i fall, i feel myself broken by the current of the fluid as it fills up the space. i’m swimming in the heat now. i feel it cut in. my clothes go first, my skin follows and slowly, i feel it move towards my soul.

with little by little by oasis playing in my head, i dissolve.