Time in class
moves like molten glass
Slowly moving across the hour and a half
I'm pushing through
when it hits the cold water of attempted concentration
I harden
shatter
quicker then I can expect
faster than I can stop
reheating the shards of broken glass
stings my palms
watching the red spread across my
shaky fidgeting hands
only makes me more desperate
to stay submerged and whole at the same time