Burnt Coffee

by Rhys Campbell


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​With my head laid to rest, I rise, 
To chase the means to earn my bread. 
The ritual repeats-unchanging, still- 
The taste of coffee, bitter yet my only thrill, 
An empty stare through hollow days. 

The lights flicker, the fire still burns, 
Yet no one lingers in these remains. 
And when I return from drifting afar, 
It's peace or dismay-confliction, 
A quest to decipher the proper way. 

Change will come, as it always must, 
Yet in the end, it's all just dust. 
So for now, I'Il brush off the rust, 
Stretch these weary bones, 
Continue to roam,
And give everything-
To make that smile true.


Rhys Campbell is a visceral poet and extreme vocalist who explores philosophical depths through raw, high-intensity word weaving.


​​​​​SHARE - Issue: 1.8 / April 2026