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No sooner through the door
than spider-legged anxiety
scurries back haphazard
like a frenemy whose cactus skin hug
begins in September and ends in July
Correlation does not imply causation.

Solid, strong, fact.

But when the month long grey veil
that smothered our holiday is hauled back
just as we return,
sun and fat heat to grill us in our ties and blazers,
I’m inclined, for once, to thumb my nose at science:

nature abhors term time
Aspiration? A tricky call.
I’m more than willing to give you a leg up,
but I can’t define where you’ll climb,
or I’ll be the *** who assumes

your *** might become an astronaut,
an assassin for hire,
or just gain enough cash to survive,
or be proudly working class,
or to clash with the establishment
and bring them crashing down
your *** might want to work
hard and fast
or be happy to rock up comfortably last
the amount of possibilities are vast
and equally valid and yours

I’ll lend a mind, some thoughts, some words to help
but for each self to realise themselves,
I’ll not assume,
we know what that would make us
How’s it going? Honestly?
C’mon, honest like 3 a.m. insomnia?

As the nights’ incremental dimming
draws us inwards,
how are you?

This idiot driven pantomime
of eighteen months
hit as hard as a guilt trip

So if you’re a little scarred,
a little scared,
it’s ok

They say that tomorrow is another day
which it is of course,
but the fear is it’ll send you
off course

But, my dears,
we’re all off course together

and who do I trust to help me
get back to happy paths?

Always, all ways
all of you x
Still loose, my mind drifts
over coppice, brook,
past fields left fallow
to heal
ragged with sedge, ragwort,
while crickets twitch defiance

Here is where I send myself
as the keyboard walls clatter in
and time returns to rigid
and gravity remembers to hold
karly codr Jul 2020
I went back to marching band today
I want to quit
I won't let myself though
It's my senior year
And my school year is already getting **** on
I won't lose the one thing I love
About going to school
My section this year ***** but it's fine
Sarah Kersey Sep 2015
I can hear the school bells
Ringing in the distance
The ache in my chest pushes
Beats consistently
My ankles snap louder
Than any tree branch
I ever stepped on
My shoes are worn through
The soles
Look a lot like their partner
Inside my chest

I do not know
How to prepare
For the endless taps
Of fresh pencils
Against the broken dreams
Of the youth

— The End —