"midterm" poems
I saw the familiar
rose-flush dust
shoot from my
fingertips,
the day
I finally
decided
to snap out of it.
I had forgotten what lived inside me.
I snapped again
at the
worrywart hut
I'd created
for myself
to live in.
And again, once more
for all time
gone
to my mind's
incessant banter
and going-on's
with
the
flirty,
too flirty,
doubting Adonnis.
The fog was heavy,
in its resilience against my
needs
to get it right,
overtaking me in confusion,
making me forget
the reality
that lay beyond it.
Its grip was choking,
sending me reeling
through a
soul-tainting realm
I hated
I knew so well,
grasping
for anything
to hold on to,
anything that
looked
like
Life.
So,
with the moon
tonight,
I weep
for the many suns
sacrificed
to
Unbelief
and
the parts of me
permitted to be
plagued
by
poison
and
malpurpose.
Though,
with the same tears,
I will thank my God
that I can at least
see
what lies
within me
and again, once more
while the moon is still bright
for the gift to feel
remorse.
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
we **** in towers
he missed the bus by hours
clean out the garbage pail with high pressure hoses
I want to stick my nose in it and pledge allegiance to its cleanliness
he feels the lows
the lower it goes
god only knows
this world is just for show
the real experience is in the back
we're keeping up appearances and paying taxes
"please be quiet and refrain from smoking
this is the first and last time I'll inform you that I'm only joking"
snip the locks
pour the contents
subdivide the rations according to your favorite fetish
better keep this to ourselves...
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 3:39 AM UTC
**** a sociology class, **** a community college.
**** all this ******** that they feed me called knowledge.
**** Everything even myself twice.
**** me real good i bet itll feel kinda nice
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 5:38 PM UTC
Dear Science and Math,
I pray to you because you are what I believe in. Today is the midterm elections for 2018, and boy are we in a mess. Evolution, I would like to apologize that we have devolved as a society to allow our government to function as a really terrible sitcom. Economics and Statistics, I feel your heavy gaze as we still have 2 more years before we hopefully take the bankrupt millionaire out of office. Every day we live under a system whose poster child mocks its citizens and strips the majority of their rights. Their rights to Medical Care, a healthy and functioning Environment, and a Financial System which can support the majority, not just the top 1%.
Today I did my part. I practiced my right . . . no my privilege to vote. Too many people chose not to vote. I didn't vote for the last 6 year because I felt I was uneducated in the topic. I felt I was flying blind, something I could have taken 15 minutes to change. If I were a citizen of Georgia I would have lost this privilege, because of 5 years of voting inactivity. If I were of Hispanic descent I would most likely have had to jump through excessive hoops because of a hyphenated last name. There are so many people who don't want to vote because they fear jury duty, or they don't want to wait in line, or they don't want to make time to vote, or they are just plain convinced the system is rigged and their opinion doesn't matter. Let me tell you something, your ballot only "doesn't matter" if you don't hand one in. In fact, it is probably working against the team you would have voted for.
I am a woman, which mean only in the past 100 years was my second X chromosome "granted" this privilege. There are still grandparents alive today who remember when, specifically, black people could not vote. There are also plenty of other cases of this "right" being restricted from huge groups of people because of, in reality, what makes them unique.
So, I sit here today Science an Math, praying to you that my little corner of the United States may become a better place for ALL of its inhabitants.
Please let the scales tip in the favor of justice.
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 10:15 AM UTC
the markerboard on the fridge read:
sleep tonight.
the only thing i promised myself i'd do.
the day went something like this:
i woke up thirty minutes late,
i made do with only washing my hair,
ate an apple, yogurt, drank a cup,
****** myself to clear my head,
ignored the neighbor as i stepped out the door.
went to a dead-end, data-entry job,
where the girls aren't pretty, nobody is funny,
because everybody is a CPA and i'm not pleasant because i
don't give a good ******* about the
world of finance.
the highlight of the workday (as it is everyday),
was the break room chatter during lunch.
the earth-shattering conversations
revolved around:
*how good the nutrisystem desserts taste,
how there was low voter-turnout in the midterm,
and how that one girl is a lesbian*.
i got off work,
ate a sandwich, a banana,
put on sweatpants and a thrift store t-shirt.
i wrapped some fitness contraption around
my belly, whose sole purpose is to make
my abdomen sweat profusely.
no pretty girls at the fitness center.
i got back to my apartment.
wrote some phony poetry full
of half-baked sentiment
for no worthwhile reason.
i smoked.
i watched a foreign film, but couldn't find my glasses.
meaning: *i have no ******* clue what the plot was about*.
i went to the gas station.
made small talk with the long haired indian man.
i bought two smirnoff 40s.
something about smirnoff gives me really cohesive dreams.
my roommate tried to give me a lecture.
i told him christ was a myth.
a simple summation of earlier religious figures.
slammed the door,
lit some incense called *****
i fell asleep, woke up an hour later in a fright.
turned on the fan,
lit some more *****
closed my eyes,
and dreamt a complex novel,
containing:
*me missing church,
my mom calling me,
getting lost in canada,
finding my way back to
my hometown only to find
two dudes with heavy machine guns
killing everyone in the cozy, local shops,
then somehow i got a line in a movie
directed by none other than keanu reeves*.
at least i finally got some sleep.
Jul 28, 2010
Jul 28, 2010 at 6:21 PM UTC
i want my life to open
i want my life to shut like a tired
ocean wave
i want to sleep and eat and
die, i want to die
and be reborn and
never have to look at any of this.
i want to drop this burden
i want to cry and cry and
i want someone
anyone
to understand this.
i want to feel a fire
i want to run outside and escape
escape escape escape
the word sounds like it wears
expensive cufflinks from a
boutique in downtown boston.
i want to ***** all over boston
i want to ***** all over myself
and then lick it back up,
lap it in, feel the chunks slide
softly down my pharynx.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 11:57 PM UTC
The whole thing smells like chlorine, which is extremely unsettling because chlorine always tastes green and a lot like hereditary paranoia. These pants were only two washes removed from brand new, and now there's a slit in the knee, a slit as precise as the shape my eyes make when I'm suspicious of wanderlusting newcomers who moonlight in my former prison cell. And I'm unsure if I should call it like I'd like it to be and say the **** things were defective or if I should investigate further as to where I placed my legs while hacking bits of plastic.
I'm TIRED of hacking at bits of plastic. I daresay if things start looking up, I could get there. I'm desperate, while this pumpkin-leaf hole grows in my chest, I'm realizing I'll never get to Lancaster at this rate. Sure, sure, I'm obsessed. I also have a blonde tail hanging from a tack on my shelf and a lot of cards tacked to my wall. They either resemble a quilt, a window or a complete mess.
I'm relying on plastic cups and the Internet to continuously foster this false sense of belonging. And I don't want to shatter it, but I'm terrified by the threat of a midterm and I feel trapped by my own sky. I mean, have you SEEN the prices for quaint bed and breakfasts? But the sad truth is, I would be haunted by insurmountable guilt at leaving her behind. The cash flow isn't flowing, either. I'm thinking I'll have to forget about it and sit at my shiny laptop on an empty desk, staring at the cottage cheese ceiling and wondering if God is looking back.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 10:17 PM UTC
Taking tests and exams is fun,
I'd rather just be done.
With midterm break finally here,
finish class, have a beer.
Nov 7, 2010
Nov 7, 2010 at 5:28 AM UTC
I won't tell you I love you when I don’t.
I won't tell you I miss you when I don’t.
I will tell you I take the long way to class
in a Chicago January
in the snow
on foot
just to finish dissecting Teenage Dream because you said that song reminds you of me
I will tell you I devote time out of my day solely to thinking about you heart heavily.
Because I am always thinking about you, fair warning.
And if I let myself indulge a week's worth of thinking of you in one minute,
maybe I can study some for my midterm in the morning.
I won't tell you I love you when I don’t.
I won't tell you I miss you when I don’t.
In those blindsiding instances of stark realization,
when I get a knee **** reaction putting on my scarf that still smells like fruit passion
because I made you wear it on the El platform to fend off a wind that round every corner could bend,
I will take out my blackberry, tear off my gloves, and tempt frost bite on the tips of my fingers
to send you a text that reads “I miss you.”
I won't tell you I love you when I don't.
I won't tell you I miss you when I don't.
Baby, I need not be insincere, I am not in love. Yet.
And it’s not you, and it’s not me. It is everyone else here.
Everyone else beating my brain in with cosmic signs
of Matt and Kim playing on the radio when they never play Matt and Kim on the radio.
Every poet pleading with me personally will flip their pages and I will be deemed defenseless against all odds.
I will tell you I love you, and I will mean it so fiercely
my chest will cave in upon itself thumping like a cartoon and creating a gooey mess of pink hearts.
Because you heart pink hearts.
I won't tell you I love you when I don’t.
I won't tell you I miss you when I don’t.
I will tell you embedded in the endless, elusive scenes of whimsy that make up my insides,
that song by The Darkness will play over every loudspeaker in the Student Center
because you paused,
you looked at me,
and you said “I love you. I really love you.”
Feb 5, 2011
Feb 5, 2011 at 12:32 PM UTC
it's always some kind of perfection outside
(the perfect storm,
the perfect blue,
the perfect colour leaves,
the perfect temperature)
and yet
it's midterm season
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 8:08 PM UTC
Lisa was carefully pulling a strand of cotton candy off a paper-coned “barbe à papa” - winding it around her finger while absentmindedly gazing at a carousel. She seemed hypnotized by its white horses, trimmed in gold, with their brassy red and blond manes, as they hopped, like slow-motion rabbits, in circles beneath wreaths and garlands of colored lights.
My watch jiggled me awake, mid-dream. I was bemused. It took me a moment to orient myself. I groggily pushed the sheets off and performed a big stretch. It's Monday morning, I think. “Alexa, what’s today?” I ask, to be sure. “It’s Monday, April 25th,” she says.
A beautiful, if cloudy spring morning was going to bloom on the other side of my jacobian glass windows - any minute now. At least according to my weather app. “Alexa, good morning,” I say, to start my rattling, sputtering, steampunk sounding coffee maker.
College time is warped, measured more in deadlines than minutes. There’s no plan other than your class or test schedule and let me refresh you on the rules – there are no rules, I’m free to do whatever I want. I actually chuckle at that thought.
College is transformative but there’s a hoary sameness to it. Read, discuss, review and test - wash, rinse and repeat. This morning is reserved for test review. I have a final this morning - well, sort of.
Some classes have a quintet of tests instead of a big midterm and nerve-racking final. It smooths out the stress, but you still have an almost forensic exploration of ideas, and you want the answers queued-up, ready for easy access.
I quickly washed and donned my workout-wear. A glance at my watch told me I was right on time. I’d loaded my shoulder bag last night, with my book, highlighters, my phone, Air-Pods and a water bottle. I grab it as I head out. I’ll do my review on the treadmill.
Anna opens her door just as I do mine - perfect. We’re off to the gym.
Apr 25, 2022
Apr 25, 2022 at 7:13 AM UTC
I am not
tall
not jack and the
giant growth spurt,
been small bean
tiny roots my
whole life.
I am
adult child
tippy toes to kiss
those who turn
their cheek every time.
I am not
sunny enough for
anyone to live off me.
I am
9:30 pm
blacked out drunk
photo in front of
my universities chapel
because i never remember
when i find god
or if i ever
really did.
i am
that last bit of
cough syrup you saved
for the day you
got better,
the autosave
on google drive
before your laptop ***** you
and crashes in the middle
of your midterm paper.
I try my hardest
to make you better,
keep you intact,
but i can’t change
why you needed me
in the first place.
I am not
made right,
cookie crumbles
instead of melt in your
mouth
i am hard
to swallow.
151 christening
the back of my throat
while you whimper
after one shot of
strawberry lemonade svedka.
That’s sangria to me, that’s
water
to me.
I promise you
I will teach you how
to chug,
how to make wince
look like wink
look like smooth
waterfall thunder
crashing into gut
as long as you
are willing to open throat.
I am not
batten-down-the-hatches
outdoor basement lock
i am
panic room
all the food and drink
you need in me
i am plentiful
i am enough
sometimes
i am too much
i am the
over drinker the
too ****** the
too much fight
too much love
not enough balance
i am
clumsy
not enough equilibrium
between my ears
maybe that’s why i am
queen of miscommunication
queen of misunderstandings
queen of “can you
say that again? i
didn’t quite hear you.
I am drowning
through waves of
something that looks a lot
like water but it
burns good enough to
quench”
I am
********* disguised as
train wreck
i needed an excuse
to be in the hospital
just to check out
of life for a few days,
lay in bed for a few days
feel too small
to go to work for a few days
because i am
tired of having to act big
seem tall
when i am
small bean
tiny roots
have been my whole life.
But i am
starting somewhere
i am growing
going somewhere
i am
just waiting for
the next rainfall
to wash away these
pesticides.
I am waiting
for the day i become
balanced and
i can stand up without
bumping into some
other clumsy part of me,
i can look at her
and ask her why she’s still
here because
i am
here now.
i am
plentiful
I am
enough.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 12:33 AM UTC
So many, too many students had COVID two weeks ago. My parents were supposed to come for a visit, and midterms were on the horizon - so I decided to go ahead and get covid - to get it over with. I’ve been around a dozen people who later that day tested positive, but somehow I’ve never come down with it myself.
Peter caught it and was isolated in his suite (two of his suitemates had it). I went to see him, surreptitiously hoping he’d pass it on, but Lisa (the traitor) texted him and he Lysoled his entire suite and wouldn’t let me in - saying exposing me went against his “moral code.” rolling eyes
Now midterm season is on us and a lot of people I know are in crisis. That happens a lot in test times. This place is so cutthroat and competitive. You can get so deep in your own head that it becomes a ***** fish bowl of anxiety. The delightful cocktail of pandemic, WWIII and midterm stress gel, in some minds, to form a sweet, unhinging mix.
My major tests are over (good for me, yay for me!) but I’m not parking my study playlist just yet. I have a couple of papers due. While those don’t stress me like tests, they’ll keep me busy, like everyone else - there’s always a feeling of being behind it and frantically busy here.
We were trying to plan an actual, REAL spring break - that didn’t involve 11 hour layovers and 5 hour bus rides. Something NOT held in a parent’s apartment - someplace adult and private.
Then my Grandmère offered us an all-expenses-paid trip to Paris, saying I could bring three friends and stay at the Hotel de Crillon. A week in Paris with Lisa, Leong and Anna sounds delicious - of course, I told them how positively uncouth it would be to refuse - we’ll see.
Mar 12, 2022
Mar 12, 2022 at 12:04 PM UTC
He went from stone to telling me he loves me in his sleep
And I couldn't look into his eyes until recently because it meant that I had to accept my own mortality
Not because he's going to **** me
But because I'll never truly know what's on the other side
They're blue and that's all I know and it keeps me starving and satisfied and scared and safe
He's my safe space. The kind that ****** off our baby boomer parents
He'll call you by your preferred pronouns. He'll celebrate your womanhood. He is the painting session that's offered instead of the midterm exam
My only worry with him is that my hair is frizzy and my lipstick is faded
I don't even worry about his roommate hating me when I visit because of our sighing and the bed squeaking
I'm at a place in my life where I wonder how high I can go at this point but if he is my anchor, the view is just fine
If he is my anchor, I'm not drowning at all
If he is my anchor, he'll lift me higher because he likes that I'm tall
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 4:07 PM UTC
Trying to recover from the Flu
There is so much yet that I have to do
I have midterm tests coming up
Doctor ordered rest
Feeling some stress
My apartment's becoming a mess
Trying to do my best
In my yearning to become a good learner
Unfortunately poetry has taken a back burner
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC
Happiness comes slowly
weaving its way through the butterflies in your stomach
as you step into the hall, seeing
all the open doors
wondering which to knock on, who to know.
Then it’s diagonal crossing
and shaking fish. It’s a group picture that still hangs in your best friend’s room to remind you of how much you can age in a year.
Suddenly it’s the ballet and lingering looks. It’s drunk astronomy videos, and tea with second intentions. It’s well developed boys with delicate minds, who are more hurt by misthrown words. (I’m sorry, still. Those months of silence did a number on me too.)
It’s red lips and falling leaves. It’s pulling yourself together out of the pieces spread around campus, and creating one rule: don’t **** DSig boys.
Then it’s floorcest, but this time more wholesome. It’s meeting the man who’s sure to be your best-man at your wedding, and wondering how you could be so similar, could love someone so much. It’s being scared that people aren’t puzzle pieces and losing one to gain another is never the same. But then realizing that maybe the original piece didn’t fit that well to begin with.
It’s a long night at the hospital, because family is family even if you never share secrets. Because sometimes cheez-it crumbs can heal souls.
Then it’s snowstorms, and gossip nights. It’s living with your best friends 24/7 and picking each one up as they threaten to unravel. It’s chugging earl gray and crying over gluten free brownies. It’s getting used to a pseudo-something only to have the ground shift under your feet––again. And then it’s growth. It’s loving other people enough to know when you’re wrong, when to let go.
Finally it’s peace, and midterm cramming. It’s shedding layers of skin and coats so the sun can finally scab over your innocence. It’s making the exodus from your room to hole up in a coffee shop and write, because the school listens now. It’s knowing that so long as you know how to cover a hickey, you’ll never really lose your status as mom.
It’s loving. Happiness is loving. Every stolen moment and stupid, idiotic escapade; every too big personality surrounded by too small quarters.
It is holding fast to the spirit of youth, letting years to come do what they may with the tattooed six on your heart.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 2:21 AM UTC
When he was in second grade
He picked up one piece of paper.
And on it he drew a dinosaur
With a stubby green crayon.
And he handed it to his nanny
Who smiled and hung it
In a frame in his room
Where it protected his bed.
And just about every Sunday,
His dad took some paper
And creased its sides
With his sharp nail
Until it was a plane
That soared over their heads
And gleeful smiles.
And his father promised him
That every Sunday
They could fly their planes
In the front yard.
When he was in high school
He picked up one piece of paper
And on it he wrote his midterm
The morning it was due.
And he handed it to his teacher
Who frowned and vandalized it
With red dots and lines,
Criticizing his work,
Just like she always did.
And his father rubbed his shoulder
As he cried about the stress
He told his son not to worry
And to keep trying his best.
Then he picked up the paper
And creased its sides
With his sharp nail
Until it was a plane
That soared above their heads
And his son’s tear filled smile.
When he was in college
He picked up one piece of paper.
And on it he signed his name
Swearing that his behavior would get better.
And he handed it to his professor
Who scolded him once more
Saying that if it continued
He was guaranteed to fail.
And when the news reached his father,
He screamed at his failure son,
Which he had been doing a lot of recently.
And his son yelled back
While his words collided with his dad’s.
Because the screaming continued,
But the listening had never started.
Then the boy crumpled the paper
And slammed it to the ground
So there would be no planes
To soar above their heads
And their identical scowls.
When he was an adult
He picked up one piece of paper.
And wrote a proposal to his boss
While he sat in his office.
And as he went to deliver it,
He heard a frantic voice announce
A tragedy in New York.
And the news made him stop
Right there in his tracks
while he dropped to his knees.
And the office panicked
For the sake of their own safety.
But he only heaved in sorrow
Knowing his poor father
Who he hadn’t spoken to in years
Was on that plane
That had soared above people’s heads
And their frightful shouts
And crashed into the tower.
When he left home on Sunday
He picked up one piece of paper.
And on it he scribbled down
A eulogy for his father.
And he drove past his old front yard
Where many years ago
His imagination used to fly
Along with his paper airplanes.
And he arrived at the funeral
Where he delivered his speech
While the water sprung from his eyes,
Forming artwork on his cheeks.
But before they lowered the casket
he took his tear stained eulogy
and creased its sides
with his sharp nail
until it was a plane
that would rest on his father’s chest
and soar within their spirits.
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 7:33 PM UTC
I have trouble sleeping
my CPAP machine starting squeaking
like a mouse is in my bed
So I quickly yanked the mask off my head
The cat knocked something over
the contents spilling the contents on the floor
Too late to vacuum up the carpeted floor
Midterm week for school tests and
big paper to write
I need more sleep to think more clearly
The highlight of my day was reading
and replying to messages that you
my dear Hello Poetry friends have written
I bid you adieu for now and wish you
sweet dreams and hope for them too
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 2:23 AM UTC
It was mid term break
from school and she met you
at the back of your house
down by the small pond
you both called the pool
where you could sit
and watch ducks swim
and birds sing
in nearby bushes
and she said
I’ve just read about some nuns
who wear clothing
when they bath
so that God
can’t see them naked
a magpie flew by
and you noticed
how difficult it was
to tell
its wing from tail
and you said
Would God be interested
in seeing naked nuns?
she gazed over
at the trees
on the other side
of the pool
her blue eyes
catching sunlight
Well they obviously thought so
she said
and she lay back
on the grassy bank
and you lay beside her
and she put out a hand
and her fingers
touched yours
and you lifted up
her hand and kissed it
and it tasted of soap
as if you’d dived
into her bathwater
and swam
between her thighs
How sweet you are
she said as you let
her hand go
and she held it
and looked at it
then a blackbird
swooped across the pool
noisily and broke
the momentarily magic
and she said laughing
You don’t know
where my hand
may have been
and you taking in
the sunlight dancing
in her big blue eyes
Maybe not
you replied
not telling her
what
in your dream
you’d seen.
May 23, 2012
May 23, 2012 at 2:14 AM UTC
I guess its final;
I am here,
In the same place
The every day
ways of the environments
Of lifes beautiful face-
on every drive
in every way
Its becoming familiar
Maybe a new start
With the Introduction to
the patterns of the daily usuals
I think another year will be such a brave decision,
A simple leap of trust of responsibility
And realiability
A simple independence;
Proven to be another challenge;
as well as the the midterm
of finding who I am.
Jun 4, 2011
Jun 4, 2011 at 4:33 PM UTC
A wind mill sliced through the air in complete silence.
Energy travels near, but won't travel far, land locking itself to what it already knows.
Screaming. Bright. Rigid. Slime. With a hint of basil.
Just reach out and taste it, as the warmth of it's rotations engulfs you.
Maxwell Edison is stuck in the Pentagon and no one is going to save him.
I can't hear you over the sound of the wind mills.
But I don't need to hear your voice to listen to you anymore.
"It's been a minute." You said, to me with the breeze messing up your tawny hair.
You dip but I never would dive, because I'm afraid of breaking my neck.
My questions remain unanswered. Must we know our names today?
The reigning king of time and space
showed me that I can make the clock tick faster and the days move slower.
So I'd spend my nights flying through the mesosphere looking for lost breaths.
Oh, joy joy, he would say when watching trails of smoke and cloud accumulate in the sky.
I will never stop this ride. It will never end and I will never come back down to earth.
My ever spinning song for you is stuck on repeat. I will end the night and the day to create the space of nothing where we have been all along.
"Laissez les bons temps roulez"
exclaimed the taxi cab meter, hiking up prices that made our wallets weep.
No one is going to save you.
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 2:14 AM UTC
He walked away swaying without a care in the world
She was walking straight ahead with a dream in hand
He was a repeat offender
She was on the A honor roll... Again
But as he was fumbling for the keys
She was fixing her midterm paper
Newton once stated that for every action , there is an equal and opposite reaction
So for every bottled he emptied was another application she filled
Every law he broke
Was one she followed
So the beautiful synchronization is that as he was driving , so was she
That as she was making that turn on a green arrow , he was there to run the red light
But in that last symphony...
Tires screeched
Metal crunched
Glass shattered
Blood splattered
Acting as a lullaby to a life that just entered into eternal slumber
But...
He walked away swaying without a care in the world
Because in that moment demons were created and an angel was born
Her soul was cradled just like it was when it entered this world
and sometimes if youre listening closely, you can hear her wings fluttering in the wind as a sound of hope @ your time of need
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC
Doctors said,
"Kid, you've got problems.
Not to worry,
We can solve them.
Take this pill twice,
Every morning.
Here's two more for
When you crash. "
I was stupid,
What did I know?
Fresh in high school
Fourteen years old.
Life just seemed to
Pass me by,
Then I took one
And got high.
Freshman year,
In ROTC,
So on point, no one
Could beat me.
Then one day,
They caught my eye;
"You should probably
Meet this guy. "
Fifteen kids stuffed
In a closet,
Huddled around our
Technical sergeant,
In his hands,
Like shining diamonds,
"I've got stuff that you
Should try, man. "
Lortab, norco,
I'd heard stories.
Ritalin just didn't
Do much for me.
Tylenol 4 and xanax bars
Made me picture
Crashing cars.
Everyone knew that
I had Addy, I drank beer,
And I smoked fatties.
They said,
"What do you want for go-pills?"
I said,
"I'll take ALL of THOSE pills. "
From that day,
My life was over.
Never again would I
Be sober.
Still I pulled through,
In the end,
With some help from
My 'new friends. '
Let's fast forward,
On to college,
Rich kids with their
Parents' wallets.
Track me down with
Midterm chills,
"Hey man, can I maybe
Score some pills? "
Hydrocodone, my
Best friend,
Stays with me until
The end.
Empty bliss that's
Like no other,
Gifted by my
Lovely mother.
Every month, I'd
Throw a party,
Young and stupid,
All invited.
Smoke some ****
And drink and chill,
Waiting for those
Luscious pills.
Talking smack and
Starting drama, waiting
Till we hear my mama,
Twist the **** and
Step inside,
Bongs and blunts were quick
To hide.
I said, "chill, guys,
She's not stupid.
My mom's cool with how
I do ****
Sure she likes to take my pills,
Still, she's brought me
All my thrills. "
"Twenty norco, fifteen xanax,
Pill for pill,
Understand that? "
Then she sat,
And smoked our joints,
"Oh my adorable
****** boys! "
Travis said,
"Dude, that's your MOM? "
I said, "why, man?
Is there a problem? "
He said, "nah, but ****
She's cool! "
I said,
"Only since I've been in school. "
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 2:10 PM UTC
Midterm
Winter
Ample
Sweaters
Through our midterms, we now have winter
Globe's ample warming--must haves: sweaters.
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 10:26 AM UTC
Failure:
It leaves a sour taste in my mouth, a ***** feeling on my hands, and bitter memories stained into my mind. I have failed more tests than I can count, more than I can remember. I have gotten bad grades, one after another, day after day. I have been on the verge of ruining my future, but gone ahead and failed another class anyway.
I have been the girl with grades as low as her age, I have been the girl you whisper about in the hallways as you walk past her: did you hear she failed because she didn’t even study
But who cares if I didn’t study, I would rather sit back and do nothing and fail an exam than dedicate all my time to studying information I will never understand, just to take a test where the teacher can tell me I didn’t study hard enough if I could still get such a low grade
I have seen my best friends spend an entire weekend pouring over their physics textbook, their math notes, their history study sheets, and then I have seen the crushed look on their faces when they still get a failing score. I have seen people try their hardest to do well and then get it thrown in their faces as the grade on the paper tells them it wasn’t enough
SO DO NOT TELL ME I NEED TO STUDY MORE, DO NOT TELL ME I NEED TO TRY MY BEST WHEN THE SCHOOL SYSTEM IS JUST GOING TO SAY MY BEST ISN’T GOING TO CUT IT. DO NOT TURN YOUR NOSE UP WHEN YOU HEAR I DIDN’T STUDY FOR MY MIDTERM BECAUSE WHAT YOU DIDN’T HEAR WAS ME CRYING MYSELF TO SLEEP BECAUSE I CAN’T BEAT THIS SYSTEM, I’M EITHER LAZY AND IRRESPONSIBLE OR JUST PLAIN STUPID, I’M STUCK IN THIS NEVER ENDING CYCLE AND I CAN’T WIN, I CAN’T PLEASE YOU, I CAN’T DO ANYTHING RIGHT, SO MAYBE NOW YOU UNDERSTAND WHY I’D RATHER DO NOTHING
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 8:27 PM UTC