...........................I grabbed the crude ........mug?
...........Took a sip of the frigid liquid.
....................Gagged.
.........If wewe could even call it a liquid.
....Disgusting chunks of unground coffee floated on the surface
Giving it the consistancy of unfinished gelatin.
....It was green.
........Why was it green?
I could only wonder why the coffee was so bloody
.............swamp-like.

.....I smelled the coffee, and a terrible odor stripped my nasal passages clean.
...Blood
....leaked
.......down
..........my
............lip
..............from
..................my
....................nose
.......................like
..........................water
..............................from
.................................a faucet.
I poured the crap into my hair, using the acidic paste to clean my matted locks.
I watched through the thing I called a window, it was zaidi of a missing brick in the wall.
The dementors whirlled by. Not noticing my living skeleton. Not hearing the moyo beating in my chest. Not seeing what was left of the joy that sparkled in my eyes.
My false conviction of this crime was the only thing holding me together.
Trapping my joy inside.

For now at least.