Cervezas at Dawn

The refrigerator hums out a melody of regret.
You awaken, pathos-pilgrim, your refrigerator devoid of destiny, thirst quenched temporarily by thoughts.
Knocking at fate's ability to balance, with dark champagne of the dusk—those cervezas will mock you, ode-diver.
A morning manuscript inscribed on daylight's reflection: proverbial amber translation lost in irony.
You can’t hear the echo of your dreams... or can you? incomprehensible_truth.html