sleeping in til nine
put contacts in the wrong eye
outside getting rained in
listeing to micheal cera palin

different cold the wet and dark
the body and soul drift apart
coworker said "running late"
no need to worry, there is no hate

o how happy i am again
o so happy my friends
im doing just fine
on my daily grind

feeling out my insides
there's been a lot to realize
just trying to figure this soul out
acting like a **** fool, no doubt

always check the left
never been right i guess
born not normal in the right place
been left to find out, im a disgrace

all because my hands are southpaw
it's become my greatest flaw
not something i can change
not something i want to change

It feels like a cat
clawing its way up my leg
digging into my back
cutting into my spine
producing a shake in my entire frame
traveling up into my teeth
chattering as I wait
for the next bus.

"I see you're smirking still." One eyebrow raised,
an accusation of my happiness.
She sees through me: an addict to the praise
and thanks and jabs and jokes at my expense.
My friends are certain I derive almost
a ****** satisfaction from all this.
It's true my heartbeat does betray the ghost
of some attraction straining to exist.
And just what is it that I want to do?
To be with him, my teacher, scandal? Or
just get attention? Or do I love school
enough that it has really bubbled over?

Or maybe when it comes to it, I am
still crawling from my father's clawing hands.

Some days I wake up
                                                                  Mind torn from    
                                                           stress dreams
                                                                And no desire to breakdown
                                                                             On campus.
                                                                  So I skip class.
                                                        Trapped in my mental jailcell
                                                I dissect my compulsive thoughts
                                                      Only to see they stitched
                                                               Themselves back together
                                                             And are resistant to leave.
                                          On days I can grasp and hold my will
                                                                           I stew in class
                                                     Noticing my classmates
                                        Who speak louder than I do,
                                        Who answer questions more eloquently,
                                        And speak science fluently,
                                                               I am left to boil in my
                                                 Lack of voice, skill, and knowledge.
                                                             At the end of my first class
                                                                   I am already overdone,
                                             A husk goes to the remaining classes
                                                                                 For me.
                                                                     On days I wake up
                                                                                     Already
                                                                                  overwhelmed
                                                                        I skip class
                                                                                  To avoid
                                                                                                   Meltdown
                                                                      Fighting fire with Magma,
                                                                                this technique is
                                                                     purely self-destructive.
                                                                                           And I know it.
                                        Pressure builds like a volatile volcano…
                                                      I FAIL my classes and ERUPT
                                                   The peak that is my self esteem
                                      Shattered by emails from professors,
                                           The lava oozes down the slopes of Mt. Me
                                               “Maybe I don’t Belong  Here”
                                     Starts the a nearby tsunami forming
                                                                      Underneath my scalp
                                                           It gathers speed and force.
                                                           It decimates the cerebrum.
                                                                                       I have to rebuild...
                                              This land is recycled often
                       Tremors with magnitudes that match
                                                        My GPA
                                            Keep me vigilant and mindful
                                                               that collapse is part
                                                                       Of my nature                   The complex societies that are rebuilt within my mind always thrive
                                              ….at the beginning of next semester.

A teacher with an always late student
Looked for ways to influence improvement
She tried best she could
But it did little good
Now the student remains mostly truant

There’s little alarm
Brought on by
my alarm
Spitting its scream at 6:15.

For a moment I was free
From the trouble that is me
Or is it the work that is never truly done?
Nowadays it’s hard to tell.

I should prepare for the day
And break the cycle of dismay
Get ready for what needs to be done,
But I did my time
Last night until 2:09
So I deserve ten more minutes of ignorant bliss.

But the textbook by my head
And the notebooks on my bed
Remind me of what more I should’ve done
An A on a test
Is worth one less hour of rest
But my brain had decayed to an catatonic state.

6:45 and I’m already behind
Just with my first action of the day
I break out of bed
Pull a shirt over my head
Try and fail to hide the circles beneath my eyes

I need to succeed
So I answer my own pleas
For rest with empty replies,
“Work harder, plan more,
Get it done and just ignore
That feeling of needing to stop

For a few minutes

To breathe

And just finally

Think of nothing.”

Now it’s 7:15
I take my advil with caffeine
Leave the house
And do it all over again.

Just above the endless sky,
Beyond the clouds we fly.
Among the air as a whole.
I nearly lose my soul.

Lost in thought my head goes off.
In the distance I hear a cough.
If only it could wake me now.
I move my face and frown my brow.

A little bird flying by.
I wave and said it "hi".
She looked at me and flew me past.
I didn't want to see the last.

Opening my eyes I see my class.
I should pay attention to pass.
But only a minute or two I tried.
And back I was in my evening glide.