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lua 2d
i still see you in my dreams
white hallways of burgundy tile and gravel
multi coloured lockers line the walls
sometimes i believe
im in a dream
still a sleep on my desk
before the lunchbell
when things were a haze of quiet noise
do the fish still swim?
does that tree still stand tall?
are the things that i've hidden
stuffed between shelves,
covered by rocks,
still there?
or have curious fingers touched them
traced the loops of my handwriting
wondering who
i am

i wonder, too

i still see you in my dreams
fresh cut grass,
tall windows, plush seats
a corner
hidden from the world.
I traveled almost everywhere, growing up. It took years. The landscapes, flora and fauna, the art, music, cuisines and curse words all seem to blend together in my mind.

Mount Fuji, the Rhine, the Himalayas, the Chattahoochee, Shenzhen, Washington DC, the Alps, and Appalachians, Moscow, Beijing, Dublin, Portland, Paris, Atlanta, London, St. Petersburg, Tokyo, Rome, Wuhan, Berlin, the Yangtze, the Mississippi, Saint-Tropez and LA - are all jumbled up in my brain, like old, wrinkled maps in a glove compartment.

My mom has total recall - she can remember every day of her life since her mama handed her a faded yellow and blue rattle when she was 6 months old - God gave me the glove compartment.

Still, some things are unforgettable, like an electrical storm breaking around Mt Everest, the lights of New York City, at night, from a helicopter, glittering on the horizon like a queen’s crown. The Danube, from a riverboat under a too-bright moon and the elegant poverty of Italy.

In some ways, I grew up like an exile because we moved every couple of years and I’d have to start my social life all over again - usually in a different language. Every place we left seemed a lost paradise, and each new place seemed cold and harsh.

Speaking of home to harsh transitions, November recess is over and we’re back in New Haven - with two weeks before final exams. Welcome to exhaustion week (weeks).

This morning I started going through my syllabuses, and after a week of holidaying - they seemed like indecipherable relics from a different world, a world of papers, tests and stingy-fun. I’ve so many things to wrap-up, my brain can’t seem to contain them all, I’m a gadget that’s out of memory.

I used to take my books on vacation, to remain in the ‘game’ mentally and stay ahead of the grind. Not this time. Hey, growing up, I’ve had my moments of ‘developmentally appropriate’ rebellion - in this case - I wanted memories to hoard, like inoculations against the coming work and loneliness cycles.
My parents are both doctors who traveled the world to teach (heart surgery) and treat (for free) the poor who would have otherwise died.
Bardo 1d
Coming home in the car from the village shop down a narrow country road
I got stuck behind a school bus which had just pulled in before a bend (so I couldn't pass it)
It was letting off a passenger
It was a little wee girl all on her own
She got off and then started to walk down this little lane
On her back she had this big school bag
And the school bag was almost bigger than she was
I thought "All that world knowledge weighing down on her poor mind
Being told to learn and memorise it
And that her whole future depended on it
I wondered would she lose herself along the way
Them emphasising the importance of it
And the insignificance of her"...
I wondered "Would there be anything of her left after it ?".
The sight of this little girl with her big schoolbag reminded me of myself coming home from school those many years ago.  It saddened me seeing her.  School changes kids in a way that's not always healthy.
Clumsily, cluelessly, capriciously;
Varying walks of life, and such varied
ways of walking. Crawling and or quickly-
they advance through the concrete corridors.

~Completely unaware of the outside world
or anything other than themselves, for that matter.~

The issue lies in the wanting of more.
I've not much left to give and I'm sickly
'cause everybody's got their friends-big leagues.
From me to you, its not simple. Like harried
marriage; marred and probably charred, but

this is war-
~extra judiciously~
Sigh, I'll add more to this at some point, but I think its pretty alright how it is (for now).
thyreez-thy Oct 3
I try to speak, but my throat hurts
Stand ideal as i taste dirt
I wanna say your amazing
But these days my words aren't phasing

I see you everywhere in my head
From the morning sun to my bed
I try and think of why i care
But honestly im just scared

Your near perfect, let me correct
Your more than that, and thats a fact
I miss the days we would sit down
You'd act mad while i played the clown

We're distant now and its alright
These days your always out of my sight
I miss your voice and your black hair
I hate that I try and that I still care

If I could kiss you I'd have taken the chance
If luck had served me, id have asked for a dance
mind thinks of what was and could have been
How you'd laugh and how your eyes gleam

I'm just in lust I'm certain its a lie
If I search hard enough id finally see a shot
But for right now your all that I got
Now excuse me as I try and cry
This was round about the time close to the dance where my crush rarely spoke with me, looking back I surely was an annoyance to both parties
Anais Vionet Sep 3
Reading some homework
The day seems like artwork
Has the sky ever been so blue

Three guys toss a frisbee
perilously near me
shirtless boys silhouetted in turquoise

We’ve got our shades on
We pretend not to watch em’
But we know they’re putting on a show.

We’ve got fold up recliners
and we set a timer
to move to the shade in a minute or two

But the sun seems distracted
cooler and less radioactive
dozens of students are out on the quad

The trees aren’t just standing
the breeze has them dancing
to ‘Blood in the Cut’, a song by ‘K.Flay’

On this cool, near-fall holiday
We’ll while our day away
each of us claiming a chance to relax

Now that we’re juniors, we know the facts
We get that there’s still a lot of reading to do
but we know, we can have a little fun too.
What else would you expect us to do?
Kushal Jul 27
I think back on my childhood.
Times that we're still good,
Before they switched it up,
Like, "Now it's time for adulthood."

Spent 18 years behind a desk,
Told to play at break,
Now life feels unrelated, and it feels like a **** waste.

It isn't useless, it just isn't right.
Train me to throw fists,
Then toss me into a knife fight.

What'd you prepare me for?
I still struggle with my taxes,
I got a degree, but it feels like I'm still stuck with all the masses.

After all these years,
It feels like I was taught wrong,
Guided down a path that my heart and soul didn't sit right on.

And every now and then
I start to fight back,
But no one likes it when you start to vary off the track.
They pushback
Like, "No, not that".
But I am not you.
So, **** that!
And I struggle but you can't see it though.
Always talk about me like I'm a lazy bloke,
Say I'm part of the lazy folk,
But your path to happiness,
Is my ******* hell road.

I think back on my childhood.
Times that we're still good...

At least, that's how it felt back then...
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