The table that remains a mere desk on usual days
Is now a study for me.
The hours that seem persistent to tick when bored,
Now seem to race me.

Books all around me, pen marks stain my hands that either remain clenched
In a hammering motion while memorising or
Tracing lines, page by page.
Yes, taking snaps of breaks while drawing an absurd portrait of a dog.
Creativity, I won't suppress you if you chose a better hour.

Warm tears swell up in my eye.
In the debate of no drive and greed for success.
"Scores don't matter!", "Studies are important" comments flying cross the room.
But not louder than the bedlam behind these eyes that droop.

Why don't I accept the turn out when I know I hadn't worked hard.
This greed that never stirs at the last piece of apple-crumble-with-cinnamon-hint,
Now panting like a flesh-hungry varmint.
"Success does not equal A+ on the report!"
Replying through the heavy breaths, "Right, however its only those A+'s that run the world."

Although I'm aware an ideas' value is the heaviest.
Beating the high scoring mass, looking over it in disdain.
I knock my head to spring some out.
...Nothing
Back to the table, stooping over the book aiming for the higher grade.

I see the world
in colors
and (h)ear
it in r(a)inbows
covering it
with a
(p)astel
of (p)ositivit(y)

Take a second to jot down a few words directly into the post box.
Be thankful for the moment you got away today and drove with the windows down to pick up pizza for dinner.
You didn't want to step away from your computer,
but your parents told you to, so you ran the errand.
Driving...
yeah...
hm...
What a nice relief.
Remember the music that played and how the wind brushing your arm reminded you of that liberating feeling when you would ride motorcycles in Estero, and it felt like nothing mattered...
You just drove and hummed whatever song made you feel the happiest.
yeah...

Okay.

Your procrastination is over, so seclude yourself out on the lanai;
brace for the long night ahead.
Maybe your friends will wish you a good night and it'll motivate you for the long haul.
It hasn't been too long since you last stayed up until 2... 3... maybe 4am, right?
Put on that playlist. (It will help.)
Let Son Lux provide that numbing white noise,
loud enough to keep you energized, quiet enough to let you type.
Maybe you'll stay out until you get it done.
Maybe you'll just get it over with tonight.
Maybe you'll want to stay out, to see the sunrise.
Maybe,
but for now, finish up your word doodles,
your little mindless rants,
so you can apply your mind to the "important things".
You'll make the best of it. (I know you will.)
Maybe you'll have fun with it.
Maybe you'll be proud of it.
Maybe you'll forget everything you've learned,
Maybe,
but for now, this is your time to write,
your time to prove yourself,
so you can tell the rest of the world,

"I did it."

The ink on my palms
Realistic dripping cuts
But in blue and black

Instead of red blood
Art, poetry, and music
Flow in my mind's eye

I'm gonna doodle a poodle eating a noodle...

There are so many traces of you left

The scent of you on my favorite sweater
that lead me to think of the movie we watched together

The doodles on my notes when you weren't paying attention
all drawn in my favorite pink pen

The things that remind me of you
hurt the most when I think of them

And I do realize, how much I miss you
and all the traces you left for me to find