SWTC03

[BRANCH] PALM BEACH

[SERVER] EMPLOYEE NO. 1313

[DATE] 10/4/21

[INDEX ID] SWTC03

[SECURITY] DINER

Thrice the coffee has been brewed.

Thrice and once the sign has flipped.

The Debtor cries, “Tis time, ‘tis time.”

Round the filter, pour it slow.

Figure eights from gooseneck go.

Wet the paper, add the grounds.

Let it bloom and seep its browns.

From the gooseneck, trickle eights.

Open now these hellish gates.

Octal, octal, in darkest hours;

Coffee brew with hidden powers.

By the whispers of ill-fated sons,

Something Wicked this way comes.

~

Poor Devil, it strikes me as a very pretty tragedy,

To pay such a toll for the crime of mere apathy.

Though one way or another, all debt must come due,

Plus, of course, the immortal interest it will accrue.

So take, if you must, the man who is Other,

Turn the coins over, and you’ll see Another.

Here Fate

To Itself doth wait,

At the furthest ring of Heaven;

At the Cold and bitter ends

We will meet as friends,

And all that will remain is the question:

~

If a line in nature is not found;

And time resets and is rewound;

What good is punishment divine;

If our time is bottled Klein;

If our Fate is prior sealed;

Why keep Secrets so concealed;

If ice will burn in Wicked flame;

Is the winder not to blame?

~

And if the winder is to blame...

Would you dare to venture past your mortal coil,

And leave this Flipside plane?

If you could,

And if you would,

You might just find yourself lost,

Once more upon a dreary hidden lane.

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