"Education is an orbit of teachers and students. You are constantly learning from others and circulating that knowledge."
Jl 2004

Get up.
Fix yourself.
Time for school.
*What the heck!!?

Once, far away, Andalusia of time.
Was I, this dreamer, this student of crime.
Devouring textbooks with a gluttonous glee.
Of masters I conversed with, with lives like movies.
FBI-profilers, psychopathologists.

Faces carved from paleo-lithic stone.

The hearts of sailors betrayed by Triton.
Their ill-fitting suits an anarchists cry.

Oh blessed hearts long since buried in the plots,
of victims whose killers would never see man’s courts.
Who knew the world and hoped to teach I,
this fresh young prey with a predator’s eye.
This fresh young prey with a predator’s eye.

Sat I with the masters, in those secret little rooms
where the dead are shuffled to have chosen for them a grave.

And it’s never more real than when the beast sits still.
In the agonising ordinary glow of the halogen buzz
that shines on guilty and innocent alike.

To reduce us all to such pathetic things.

That if not for the debt, this creature’s crimes
one could pity being on such obscene display.
If it were not known to me, in great detail
the river of misery and depravity he had left in his wake.

As a mugshot robs the aura, so too the well lit room.

And I understood why it took a much colder mind.

As even though I possessed all the faculties which
could follow and track and trap the prey;
the predator must also ****.

And being in those secret little rooms
I knew I could not see it through.

I left it to those stronger than I
and leave my mark through other designs.

I need a teacher
to tell me that I'm great
at this writing thing
who will give me constructive criticism
and As
and gold stars or something

Or I at least need a teacher
to tell me that I'm terrible
and should revise
and demand more of myself
and hit the delete button
and do something else with my life

But now that I'm the teacher--
...how do I get better?

He's different, I think
When I sat down firstly
I barely gave a blink
So did he, none did speak


But then he asked me
"Is that x over y?"
And he smiled so gently
So heavenly, it warmed me

I said, "Yes, yes it is,"
And returned the smile
half-heartedly
In hopes he'd return one back

Everyday, I sat beside him
Everyday, I hoped I could to to him
Everyday, I psyched myself
Everyday, I believe fate would bring him to me

I think I started to fall a little harder
in my mind, so much thoughts to ponder
"What if we fell together,
or would he treat me like another brother?"

His friends are vastly... different
Egos blown, language ever so sharp
They'd play and frolic around
But he, no, he'd rather sit and look around

Unlike them, he liked to smile a lot
Unlike them, he'd give and opt not to take
Unlike them, he'd speak with his eyes filled of genuine interest
Unlike them, he'd make you feel... warm... understood... human

Time passed, I did nothing
I was ever content with small talk
We'd have hard time graphing parabolas
But when will love come around, my own graph?

The last day came, and all we ever did was write
He'd make jokes, and I would laugh
The hour passed, now time to say goodbye
"Dart sa heart", he utters, leaving me to ponder

Time for judgment day came
I utter my wish for luck to him, him to me
A grueling hour or two ran by so fast
I sighed, was relieved, was done, but could not afford a glance.

"3 minutes left!", the professor says
I nodded sassily
He chuckles
He nods as well
I think
I ponder
I feel
"Did he even feel so differently about me?"

The day is done
He walked off first
I followed
But there was no goodbyes
and neither did close the door
so I was left open

"When would I ever see him again?"
But I'd like to meet
but the answer is never
maybe pain is part of this growing...

It lies, turgid.
Beneath the seedy mass of microscopy
lit fluorescent, breathing.
Bloated cellulose bricks in syrup
Conjunctive in an extracellular mess,
Ripped mesh and tiny sculpturettes
Freshly bleeding.
Chloroplastic green and iron red
slivers of nucleic endoscopy
A secret glimpse framed by my eyelashes.

Would that I,
a lowly grunt
could make more than
the average runt
just out of school,
degree in hand;
While I survive
on meager plans.
Equality is a grand concept
full of flaws
and many steps
that most among us
will never see-
for man is not known
for his humanity.
We strive to be better,
but what do we gain?
A fistful of debt,
and a mountain of pain?
And what do we learn,
except that life isn't fair?
Playing cards with a bad hand
and a dare?
That bleeding hearts and open minds
will make us quite impaired
and are considered bad qualities
that make us unprepared
for the lambast that life is,
for the spears of betrayal-
for the knowledge that everyone
as some point is a failure?
We enter these halls
as creatures of learning,
yet exit these doors
suspicious, discerning-
our youthful optimism
shattered and dashed
by ancient old teachers
with an impressive moustache.
So, what is the point
of institutional leeching?
Is this how we want
our teachers teaching?
Do we condone the lack of equippable smarts,
instead replaced with limited starts?
Or perhaps yet, there is another solution-
Quit hampering learning with political pollution?
Maybe thats an option-
maybe it's not;
but I'm a student;
that's all I've got.

i went down to florida
and came back with pneumonia,
maybe due to my life so busy
running and running and getting so dizzy,
always managing to stay on track
costing my sleep to be in major lack,
pushing myself past every limit
enjoying it all and never feeling timid,
but everyone said i'd eventually hit a wall
i guess they were right after all.