Coffee or Kerosene

Coffee or Kerosene, which one shall I drink?

Think not to serve ones poison from paper cup, for earth cannot cope with either chalice, or so I'm told.

Black or Red falling within oesophagus to burn away life's emotional cuff.

I stand in front of the great servant, for he is my most creative thought, the one who acts on my desires and pours from the rendering of my eyes.

I stare and wait, tapping impatiently for his decision,  Coffee or Kerosene, I think he has forgotten which button to press, I turn away from the display of his distress.

Instantly 

The fluorescent flakes of light begin to fall upon my head, his eyes melt into a sea of distortion and every human trickles back into there prospective place from when I entered.

I entered from which door?

I begin to panic, the floor is not right, the air is stale as if no lung had ever consumed its rightful place, I am pushed with the force of a command.

I can hear the clicking of fingers upon the keys. It is loud and disturbing as I am moved to the Kerosene pump. My mind is reset, the scene erased.

A tear falls, I taste it, knowing something is not right but Kerosene is to burn and Coffee is to drink, not a thought needed, I just know this.