Dog Day Afternoon

After classes, for two hours and a half

Mind’s numb from static words and archaic lessons

Afternoons flourish, a lazy inner laugh

Stretch with the palm trees, kick up grass and stones

.

By the steps of humanities, a sepia snapshot

Of passersby and busy souls and stray pets that roam

Cars going nowhere, blue skies that time forgot

Weariness that dissipates, shaken off from rusted bones

.

After class, of a day’s worth and a half

Thoughts dazed with melancholy, still wandering alone

Afternoons effloresce, a warmer fullstop

Walk with the dusty sunset, I guess it’s time to go home.

30 – alma mater

this day is turning into ten years

and as i mill around from class to class,

all i ever excel at is the art of invisibility

and how to walk out of my own body

carrying a weight around, everywhere i go

and nodding until my head feels like

it’s no longer mine to move at will

but i endure, and keep my gaze down,

and stay out of trouble; out of sight,

out of mind, out of time—and wasting

away for four more dreadful years,

until ten years turn into a day.

on recitation #3

i could never

find the right words

to say,

and when i do

i could never find out

how to say it

in the right way.

on recitation #2

oh, but darling please

it’s not a matter

of else and eloquence,

it’s a matter of

nerves and nervousness.

on recitation #1

attempting to participate

in recitation can be

just a total bitch

because no matter how

tired my raised arms

get, apparently i just

don’t fucking exist.

sophomore soporific

bed weather

is mocking me

i’m lost in muffled

humming of a

drowning reverie

i could be asleep

this very moment

and dreaming in glass

but instead i’m

still stuck here dying

and rotting in class.

Observatio Ad Interim

It pains me to play along and pretend that I’m still a part of your company

And it isn’t your fault, I was just being a despondent miserable whelp, honestly

But despite this stinging truth, the fact that I’m merely an unwanted extension

I disgust myself the most because I still enjoy this piteous kind of attention.