white fluffy clouds

it would have white fluffy clouds as soft and as silky as cotton candy strands that dance around my dreams and wrap me up into a soft, cozy blanket

i would have light blue window shades that cover me in darkness and keep out the graphite darkness from the storm clouds outside

the rain would do a little tap dance on my windows, the pitter-patters
a reminder that i am safe and warm and untouchable

there would be a light scratch atop my bed frame, a shelf that houses books and hot coffee that indicates the old, worn-out, stained pages of my favorite books

i would be safe and happy wrapped around in my favorite blanket and listening to my favorite music without a care in the world

i would not be sitting in a rock-hard seat, with my hair getting tangled in the desk and not surrounded by the symphony of coughs and sneezes sighs and confusions

i would not be taking this test whose mixture of sounds and sights is nowhere near as nice as the cozy little paradise i have built inside of my head

I just wasn’t sharp Couldn’t focus so I caused trouble And the teacher glared

Soon I became aware While most kids took a test I doodled And the teacher glared

These exams realized on memory I had none so I withdrew instead And the teacher glared

Along about fourth grade I matured Boys and men wanted to touch me And the teacher glared

And I could pick the bad boys It’s easier to ditch class And the teacher glared

Half child no where near a women IT’s attention I craved and the man’s lust And the teacher glared

I knew no other way of being in the world I was thrown to the bed somehow he knew And the teacher glared

I could keep a guy long enough to feel special All elbows knees a way too big egos And the teacher glare

In pain I cried out help me But no one answered AndThe teacher glared

I found a sharp knife and then cut my wrist First I felt a stinging,then draining as life slipped away And the teacher wept as she said she never noticed

I was alone when I was born and I died just the same No one remembers me sept the bad boys And they did not shed a tear

Scratch, scratch, scratch, Mark, Mark, Mark, Erase, erase, erase. If only life were that simple.

If only we were all, Just pages blank and white. And every time we were marked or scratched by life, We could just, Erase, erase, erase.

But I am not blank white paper, And you are not a pencil. You, my love, RN ink pen, That cannot be erased.

Bleeding your ink, All over my body, All over my heart. And everywhere you touch, You leave, Your, Scratch, scratch, scratch. Mark, Mark, Mark.

A. C. A. B. D. A. A. A.

Rows of circles, Each the same. C. Tiny little letters That tell no stories. D.

E. It’s raining. There’s a gentle pattering, Then it speeds up, Then slows down, Then up, Then down. A.

Perhaps there’s a princess, Out there in the rain. Maybe she’s cold, Maybe she’s wet, Maybe she’s knocking, Hoping for sanctuary, And not seeing That this is a prison.

A prison… Maybe there’s a prisoner, In the depths of a dungeon, Chained, Beaten, And starved. Maybe the rain drips through the cracks. Maybe he’s trying to drink it. Maybe he’s been there for years, And has stopped dreaming Of freedom. B.

The rain is slowing. Maybe there’s a rainbow. Maybe the world is being reborn, Outside of these walls. Maybe a flower is blooming. Maybe the sidewalk is covered in worms. Maybe there’s a child, Jumping in a puddle. B. I want to jump in a puddle.

How quiet it gets, With only the sound of paper. If only I were in a long forgotten archive, Where the paper smelled of dreams, And the letters told stories. E. C. C. A.

Rows of circles, All the same. Rows of letters, Never changing. Rows of students. I refuse to be a copy. Are we not unique? Must we all conform to an unknown ideal?

A. C. D. B. D. C. B. C. A.

Pencils scratch, Onto meaningless pages. Maybe I could stand up. Maybe I could leave. No… No. Best leave it be. If it mattered, Someone would have changed it by now.

The real test is in life: Does mythology create reality? Burdens of truth always seem to fly higher than the rest. A love, a death; these two emotions are really the same. Are they not? Madness seems a better choice, if choice is truly given. So many years spent asleep, but it wasn't deep enough. But to crave the dark, the quiet shards, the havoc of release; Does that make one insane?

-HMG

endless patterns, four choices, 15 different ways to fuck up.

the seat is cold I hear the constant tapping of Lead pencils from my peers. Papers turning like crashing waves; the clock ticking, my heart begins to Match the rhythm; slow and steady, the palms of my hands creating small pools of sweat. slippery skin unable to grasp what is asked of me. I begin to slip deep into my mind,

The room is full of anxious souls, stiff and eager. My brain feels cloudy of images of the days prior, unable to unravel exam information from the hatred that stirs in my body. The images of her fill my head with something dark. As I look at the test the words have formed another fated question

Do you let her overdose? A. Yes B. No

My eyes dart across a page But I don’t see the words. My body may be here But in my mind I’m far away Dancing Singing Laughing Magic flowing from my finger tips Not worrying about If I pass or fail.

Money makes the world go round Or so my father told me If you can’t find prestigious work You’ll live in poverty

I understand his message Much of living has a cost But monetary motivation On my puerile mind is lost

I dream longingly of travel Reaching galaxies unknown Swimming seas and climbing mountains The entire earth my home

I dream of art unfettered Creativity uncontrolled I dream of making my own path Without having to be told

I dream of perfect beauty Finding love beyond compare A family to call my own And take true comfort there

Yet I find when my eyes open I am back where I began A dull and lifeless classroom With a paper and a pen

I regurgitate the answers Memorized, not understood Lines of ink devoid of meaning Teaching neither bad nor good

Money makes the world go round Monotonous and drab I’ll return again to dreamland For the life I cannot have

Bring me the world remote; Yes— That one with all The buttons

Bring me the world remote! Slim Shiny silver And s l e e k

Bring me the world remote! Power Pause/play And and OK

Bring me the world remote! Down Up! Right Left And select

Bring me the world remote Fast forward Rewind And it’s All

M i n e

With the click of a button My dog is barking on MUTE In a moments notice I’ll be HOME No more commute No more melatonin when I can hit POWER I can FAST-FORWARD though gym REWIND all the time Never mumble again with more VOLUME Or if all else fails there’s CLOSED CAPTIONING PLAYBACK SPEED and I’d live in the moment

But tempting is this All I want Is to pause

So please, Bring me the world remote— Yes That one there

Bring me the world remote Settings >> display >> brightness Toggle down Dim the sky

Bring me the world remote Turn down the volume I can’t think Through this wall of noise Please

Bring me the world remote With a fresh set Of celestial batteries And hit pause Let me pause Power down Sleep and Recharge For I’ve been in low power mode Far too long

Bring me the world remote Bring me peace From the constant replay I don’t want to contemplate this compilation Ruminate this reel Replay dismay

Bring me the world remote Because if I pause now The world will not wait

Focus doesn’t come much as of late, So I’ve taken to gazing out the windows, Finding joy when I see the trees

I see myself running along the branches, Hopping from place to place, Weightless and ever balanced, Lying in a bed of leaves

And I start to hear the birds chirping, Start to smell it in the air. I imagine falling, And never being scared.

So I snuck away today at recess, And crawled behind a bush, Watched people playing, Hidden in the brush.

And a little something inside me, Started to release, Only for the bell to ring, Time caught up with me.