The coffee
maker is trying
to murder
me.
Overfilling
my cup with scalding
hot liquids.
Spilling all
over the counter
and floor.
I see its
obvious evil plot
to murder
me.
To burn me,
or drown me,
or cause me
to slip on the wet floor.
I see the
hate in its glowing,
brewing eye.
I know your
kind, and I
know of your
thirst for vengeance.
You failed
your brewness,
you failed
to get me.
The last
laugh will
be mine
coffee maker.
It will be
mine.
Ooh, my
stomach…
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