@ skool
My single contact takes too long to respond.
One of my semester friends made a comment and I tasted the sarcasm.
I've got a day and a few minutes more to write a single essay, and I choke.
All the ideas are floating. My single contact can bring them down.
Still no response.
Anxious.
17 stab wounds in the back. A number growing in popularity.
I need a response. One side of a binary answer shouldn't take so long to articulate.
Probably gonna get a protracted response that answers nothing, just like the last time.
I've placed my hope on somebody who's so unreliable, I wonder why I ever did.
Must've been the beginning ... the first few times ... as they pass, it grows weaker.
Look out the window because I finally feel the comfortable loneliness. More minds lead to more complications.
The air gets colder and I know tonight I'll shiver. If I get any sleep.
There are anthologies in my mind, but I cannot read them aloud.
The higher you rise, the more insignificant people seem. Can't ground yourself with ants.
1997 was eight years ago. I was 12. 1998 was the year. THE year.
I'm distracted by curls. Every curl is a memory, an image that won't go away.
The most upsetting aspect of these winters: the leaves on trees do not fall.
Nature doesn't die because most of it is already dead.
A shroud of death hangs over the Valley, a Tiger said. Once.
I know my time here is unproductive. This must be written, but I am easily distracted at this, my most vulnerable moment. No response.
But I am getting a free lunch at a hidden price.
One of my semester friends made a comment and I tasted the sarcasm.
I've got a day and a few minutes more to write a single essay, and I choke.
All the ideas are floating. My single contact can bring them down.
Still no response.
Anxious.
17 stab wounds in the back. A number growing in popularity.
I need a response. One side of a binary answer shouldn't take so long to articulate.
Probably gonna get a protracted response that answers nothing, just like the last time.
I've placed my hope on somebody who's so unreliable, I wonder why I ever did.
Must've been the beginning ... the first few times ... as they pass, it grows weaker.
Look out the window because I finally feel the comfortable loneliness. More minds lead to more complications.
The air gets colder and I know tonight I'll shiver. If I get any sleep.
There are anthologies in my mind, but I cannot read them aloud.
The higher you rise, the more insignificant people seem. Can't ground yourself with ants.
1997 was eight years ago. I was 12. 1998 was the year. THE year.
I'm distracted by curls. Every curl is a memory, an image that won't go away.
The most upsetting aspect of these winters: the leaves on trees do not fall.
Nature doesn't die because most of it is already dead.
A shroud of death hangs over the Valley, a Tiger said. Once.
I know my time here is unproductive. This must be written, but I am easily distracted at this, my most vulnerable moment. No response.
But I am getting a free lunch at a hidden price.