—the slow-drip soundtrack of suspicion, brewed one anxious bubble at a time.
The pot began its hollow song,
A drip that felt like something wrong.
Each bubble rose, then popped in place,
A sound that stalked your quiet space.
You leaned in close, you swore it knew,
The coffee blinked, it stared at you.
It gurgled low, then hissed and spat,
You swore you heard, “Remember that.”
The glass grew dark, the liquid climbed,
The rhythm sharp, the timing primed.
You filled the cup, but dared not sip,
The handle trembled in your grip.
It wasn’t fuel, it wasn’t kind.
Just noise that kept you out of mind.
📜 Percolated Paranoia – The Recipe
Ingredients:
- 3 tbsp Ground Coffee (medium grind, but feels too coarse—like the day)
- 12 oz Water (slowly dripped into meaninglessness)
- Brew Method: Classic stovetop percolator (paranoid technology from another age)
- Garnish: None—the sound is garnish enough
Instructions:
Fill percolator base with water. Add grounds to basket. Heat until the bubbles rise in strange, rhythmic pops. Listen too closely. Feel judged. Pour into a heavy mug and drink with one eye on the door.