84
MEPHISTOPHELES
IS
NOT
ABOUT
this
coffee
is
hot-‐
but
paradise
is
cold,
and
Mephistopheles
is
not
about,
tempting
me
with
gold
and
pouting
pleasures
of
the
flesh
with
their
alluring
mesh-‐
so
Morpheus
to
hold
in
broken
secrets
being
told.
this
dreamer
in
his
underwear,
parts
from
the
bottle,
and
leaves
it
there-‐
some
touched,
not
much
with
stale
camonbert-‐
no
fun
alone,
moving
around
inside,
unknown-‐
disturbed
from
bed
to
chair.
it
synchronizes
well,
how
past
and
present
both
compel
a
sleep
on
understanding-‐
the
beat
of
love
with
sand
in
the
texture
of
its
taste,
trapped
in
silence,
waxed
to
waste-‐
with
nothings
nonsense
in
its
face.
By
Strider
Marcus
Jones