Good grades will get me into next year.
Then be able to graduate with a 4.0 GPA.
I wouldn’t have to worry about student debt
Because it’d be covered by a scholarship.
I could finally get into an Ivy League Law School,
Get the credentials for a high-paying job,
And have a family I’ve always dreamed about.

But does having good grades make me happy?
Do I find any joy on not getting to sleep,
Trying to figure out what x+y equals
Or writing essays on Abraham Lincoln?
We all know I’m never using this in real life.

So sorry I’ve failed you mamí,
But a 9-5 job isn’t the life for me.

Dear mom and dad, colleges been a whirl.
all nighters are common and I eat too much ramen but Ive kept off the freshman fifteen.
My friends pierced my ears and dad I'll out drink you with beers. But frat boys can be quite mean.
I took the car for a few trips outta state with my friends but I filled up the gas and didn't once crash.
I have a tattoo I haven't shown you. I really miss my old bed.
My friends got us a fish but that was a miss.
Then I broke my finger but the pain didn't linger.
I did get corona but after tacoma.
I kissed a few boys and made too much noise, but I did get to dance in the rain.
I showed my friend his first snow and watched my plant grow.

And although midterms made me cry, I got to watch the sky go from blue to pink with a friend

I'm just hoping it won't all end.

alarm screeches at 7:30am
until slammed against the wall and silenced
but you're then awoken by the cold-sweat panic
coupled with 8am realization
that you were supposed to head to class
ten minutes ago
and with sweatpants and slippers on
you sprint into thirty degrees
fog in the air, fog on your glasses
what a way to start the day!
philosophy *****, but you can't even sleep
hair matted and face oily
you sit there and scribble
every minute passing by slower
making you angrier
and the walk back to isolation
makes your blood boil
so you splash water to get rid of the oil
but now that you're back in a dark and cold room
it's time to hop on to your class on zoom!
you are paying thousands
thousands of dollars
THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS
to group facetime your professor
and spend half the time
experiencing wifi interruptions
and roommate disruptions
and near-screaming eruptions
but then you're done.
but not really!
you have a three-hour lab
and no time to eat before
so your meal is trail mix
and you feel weak and sick
but you have to get through
your gpa is dependent upon
mixing these chemicals correctly
so much depends
upon
a red hot
face
glazed with tear
water
beside the white
lab coats
welcome to your life!
this is what you wanted,
right?
this was your dream?
but your "dream"
has been twisted
and wrung out
of its golden magic
a watered down version
of what you expected
you knew it would be different
you thought maybe a third
would be skimmed off
but, hey, lucky you!
it's not even half full
welcome to your nightmare!
i hope you had a fun day
because now you get to slave
over hours of work
staring at a blue screen
icons melting your eyes
emails ruining your life
all you know in the late hours
is wooden chairs
and agony
so return "home"
tiptoe in the dark
because this is not your place
sharing is caring
spend the next three hours
tossing and turning
because you get to wake up
and do it all over again!
if your life has gone flat
at least you know what to expect
if you can no longer be surprised
can you be pained?
i would say i'm sorry
but you chose this
so kick yourself
put on your mask
and shut up.
this is your fault.
this is your life,
get used to it.

A fall is only as bad as you make it
A doorstep is not as deadly as a canyon
But I would like for you to tell that
To the shattered vase

The jagged edges of the broken glass
Shimer and shine like blood on protruding bones

While cleaning it up I feel a sudden pain
I inspect the injury
A small cut has appeared on my hand
Red liquid pools in the palm of my hand
A chuckle emerges from my chest
"In my clumsiness and neglect I have not only hurt another, but also myself.
"I will let you have your revenge because I do not blame you for being spiteful."

I pick up the pieces and inspect the translucent stones
"I could buy glue, pick up every piece, spend hours recreating this masterpiece."
"No, I am no craftsman. I am no glasssmith."
"This vase is broken."
The smell of sweat and iron reminds me of the damage that I brought on myself

My body has already started the process of repair
The blood has hardened to cover the wound
I try not to think about it
"It will sort itself out." I think to myself

I head out a second time to transport the vase
Pain in my hand refuses to subside

I ignore it

Within a few steps the glass once again falls
My hand throbs with sharp uncontrollable pain

The palm of my hand rotten and greened
Much worse than it had seemed
I look for a glove to cover the mess
But the problem won't end untill it's addressed
As I look for the glove the rot continues to grow
But if I only find the glove no one will know
Before i know it i am consumed
In much less time then I presumed

My eyes open to a blinding white room
Surrounded by faces of people  I know
Disappointed but worried
I had not done what was right
I had not asked for help
I had not even taken care of the injury
These people all care about me
I had let them all down
I will need to try again to move the vase
But this time I know
I will need help without my right hand

Come here,

Let me taste & bite softly into those lips little lady
Juicy like my favorite candy,
that’s a “Now & Later”.
Kissing on my neck, giving me hickeys
Loving my scent, always stealing my hoodies.
Grab you, squeeze you, spank you, thank you
No one else deserves this treatment like you do.
I want you to focus, watch, & observe
Lick, slurp, oh I struck a nerve.
Please you, please you, keeps you so eager
Those jeans cause trouble the way them cheeks just sit up.
In public so sweet, but my private lil’ freak
I peep you trying to play me for keeps.
Attractive, Delicious, Teasing, Yummy
Keep you around cause you stay stunning.
Bragging to others you’re taken & that I’m your man
I like that cause I needed boo thang like you on my hands.

Classrooms are what you make of them
Empty faces, cotton filled ears
The spark of something new in the eyes of a few
The glaze of sleep in most.
Anticipating the day they are freed.

One day.

Professors who do their best not to reflect the boredom
That they sense thick as tar in the closed up space.
Windows shut, blinds down.
No distractions,
They hope their pupils make something of themselves.

One day.

One girl in the corner jotting down notes,
Too slow before they're erased.
She holds on to imagination as much as she can,
It stretches thin as it flees from her.
She hopes she can make it strong again.

One day.

The boy in the back always has his head down,
Never fully present,
Never to be whole again.
Loss is a bullet none can dodge.
He hopes the wound will heal.

One day.

And the ******* her laptop before class begins.
Typing what she sees in the guise of prose
Desperately hoping the creativity she lost,
Can find it's way back to her.

One day.

My concept of time is completely warped, and for that, I pay no attention to it. Remember when you were younger and a year felt a lot longer than it does now? When you are young, and life is long, there is time to ****, but as we age time escapes us. However, we are just doing laps around the sun.

Softly played music soothes
The wind howls as cars pass.
The fluorescent light shines on me.
Alone by myself, in a small room.
Paying for stress and work.
A slave of my own making.
I hope it will be worth it.