and moving the glass to my mouth
with the burning holy liquid inside
I do feel the urge to ask
but I don‘t dare
cause the answer
would threaten my being
and the konstrukt
would simply fall apart
tickling
tackling
like the kitchen clock following me
on my unholy ways
& I couldn‘t want that
sip
sip
sipping again on that that makes me feel
bad
&
good
down my burned throat it follows me
doesn‘t let me go