If I were a teacher,

I'd teach plagiarism
Like a patent office.
I'd teach publication
Like plagiarism,
And I'll proofread
Any paper that properly
Cites their sources.

I'd teach every
Kid from age X to Y
That if I can't
Lift them as
High as they
Want to go
Than somebody
Else
Can.

I would be the man,
That teaches subjects
Like I'm their King,
And I'd spread
Knowledge to every
Acre of my empire
I'd teach anything.

See,
I'd teach chemistry
By making the reaction of
Why and How
Always synthesize
Wow.

I'd be a catalyst
For positive change
By keeping every
School-yard bully
and kid that's always picked last
Around after class
To teach them physics,

Like if you have mass
And you take up space
Then you ******* matter.

I'd put the cool
in Coulombs.
I'd be so electrostatic
About magnetic fields
You could feel my fluxin'
Energy in the hallway.

I'd say
His story,
And Her story,
And everyone in-between's story,
Is about the day their parents met.

I'd teach ***-ed
Like it's about the
Day their parents met.
And it wouldn't be weird
It'd be beautiful.
Because anybody falling
In love is beautiful.

And speaking of beautiful:

Mathemagics,
Would no longer
Be a bottomless hat
But a bird.
With feathers and wings
And things that always
Find their way home.

I'd transform
The Fourier of
Our foundations
With equations
Of equality
Like you,
And I are
Always equal to
Us.

It'll be cake
To be genius.
....Or pie
Or whatever else is rational
In this situation.

And I
Would measure intelligence
With the answer to the question
Of why we are alive.

I'd standardize
Every test
By removing
Any box that
Takes us
Further apart

I would make art
Combining every
Color from East to West
In a masterpiece
That every child can draw
We'll call it "human"

I would solve
World hunger
And war,
And every other problem
That stems from greed
With answers to the
Questions that I still
Don't know

But I would show
Everyone whose ever
Made you hurt
That a broken heart
Has still got the
Courage to beat

Because it's their words
Where the heart breathes
Where the heart bleeds
Where the heart sleeps

And it's our dreams
That keep us awake
In the wake of our past

So I'd put every love letter
And box of their ****
On a bonfire, light a match,
And we would watch it burn.

Hell,
If I were a teacher
I'd say there's
So much left
That I've still got
To learn.

Math is killing me
Wasting me
It's taking my light
It is not right
F math

twenty two, twenty three, twenty four

hours in a day

like the white rabbit,

we watch time and stay at the bay.



ten, eight, six, four

words like ‘it’s not good enough,’

or maybe just simple and badly-woven adjectives,

sometimes it makes us feel blue.



thirty, sixty two, countless

nights spent dreaming with open eyes

but all that comes are unkind;

worse than reality’s piercing swords of ice.



yellow, red, blue, nonexistent.

what we know is counting down

to the day the string snaps

the insides spilled; to everyone, its uglies shown.



three, nine, twenty seven

years spent as busy as a cat on a hot tin roof;

the forgotten summers fell into piles of ashes,

yet to our bars of efforts, everyone stays aloof.



one too many times

it happens.

one too many days we thought

**** it up.



(so we did.)



six,five, four

ages we were taught numbers and their orders.

nowadays, **** it up and

count sheep throughout math.

The complexity of coupling is an exponential increase.
No matter how perturbed life may be, we strive to linearize it,
thank you Laplace. You transform us.

It is integral to simplify life.
Like Da Vinci, Like Thoreau:
“Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication”
“Our life is frittered away by detail…simplify, simplify”

Let us not differentiate between the good or the bad
                         the high or the low.
Life is too brief to quantify, qualify, and compare it to others.
It is yours alone. Embrace the change over time.

I love maths
it proves that we were
just another mish mash
of geometric nonsense
refusing to accept
that you were a square
and that I was a circle
and that organic movements
do not match
with corners
and straight lines

Out of all the people I have ever encountered, only you relentlessly make veiled influxes in my creations, as I’m subconsciously thinking about your reaction in everything I make and I suppose I am imagining you will someday read this, admire my art, and describe how brilliant I am after staring at my math homework.
No, my sweet companion, I am not as brilliant as you dreamed.  I am neither talented nor creative.  I am simply a girl with too much time since I have forgotten my purpose or saw I had none.  I lost a sense of what I should do with myself when they said I wasn’t reaching expectations.  Don’t call me smart; have no expectations lest anxiety starts explaining the ways of failure.
There are three 360 degrees in a clock and 365 days.  I must find the correlation, as I speak in numbers and calculate in sentences.  Everything has an equation to graph in four dimensions, so math is all I see.
You are already a star that burnt out and became a black hole with infinite gravity.  Light cannot find a way of resisting you and I get why you prefer light to my dust a million light years away that will turn into a star but not in my lifetime.
Dream about me and watch solar systems rotate you.  You are the center of everything in a space without a center.  You **** in particles that might come a different black hole as long as you don’t violate the laws of causality.
No, my dear, you are the brilliant one that discovered how to throw a ball of light in the air and watch it come back to you so that you can catch it and throw it up again.  You are the one endlessly collapsing and imploding.  Life cannot survive inside you only partly because you forgot symbiosis.  You are breaking all the rules and nothing can stop you until we see what happens when an unstoppable force collides with an immovable object.  Only another light-******* creature will get you to talk and I am a cloud determined to become a black hole so that we can create a binary system of rotating giants of darkness.  
I promise that I will catch up to you, but today, I can only write about you with abstract words and too many dead metaphors – because that is all you ever were to yourself – as I imagine you reading my work and editing my math homework that never needed editing.  I promise I will meet you again somewhere in this cold and lonely universe.  I promise that you are not alone and you can give a hint of you hide within your dark horizon.  I will give up forever to find you.

i met a young girl
the other day,
and she wanted to
know if i cared to
read her book.

i was delighted at her
offer,
especially from a girl
so young as herself,

i agreed to take
her novel, slipping
it into my sturdy hand
bending the whole page backwards,
allowing it
to kiss the cover,
holding it up to the sun as
if i were to recite it
to the curious sky.

but
the little girl
could do nothing,
but stare and
ask of me
that i not bend
the pages
of sylvia plath,

and i knew then
and there,
that she was doomed
to a life of math.