university

dry aching surrounds my eye balls
too much light and these hours fall
tension of what will be so soon
work that will not be completed

if I explored my artificial world
money, money, money
me, a student here
gray matter grasping concepts
and paying to learn

I strongly believe
that I am poor, a poor student
and can never remember that
because I live here I am rich
how else could I learn
these pointless concepts

delusion.
we somehow think
it is better to be force-fed
these formulas, ideas, stories
than to live and read from others
to write and
there are more ways to learn to think
than learning
like wounds self inflicted
always embedded now
can we learn to think
beyond the perimeters of what we have payed for?

reason

These thoughts have attacked me.
My spine curving in defense against
impossibility
dead ends and the incapability
of vision to see
instead,
blurry shadows and
something like duty
that gives no pleasure
instead
my feet have lost the ground
emotions slipping
and still
when all I could want
was a loss of reason
and raw feeling to overcome
the patience of rationality,
miniscule hooks of truth
cling to darkened thought.

to be continued..

he looked as though he had stood in front of his bathroom mirror, with a comb and hair wax. And it was as though he had, with excruciating care, drawn the comb over his face in an exact imitation of the incomprehensible phenomenon, Justin Bieber.

the chair creaked as he stretched in it, the long limbs unfolding, canvas shoes scraping the carpet. His eyes screwed shut, black fringed.
His perfectly toned, muscular arms stretched out to grip the computer desk in front of him. Grasping hands taut and the strong bones radiating from the wrist, veins pulsing.

he sighed, creased forehead smoothing as he expelled air and relaxed his hands. He turned to the student on the computer over from him, eyes quickly charging with interest.

clear, opaque

Something is closing my throat, I am breathing shallowly.
This external case can show you, when you see with your mind, that this spirit is restless.
And if it was billowing with wind outside, in that studded dark
my external shell could transform
become translucent dust
then I would soar with them, light-pierced, so free
wherever the impatient wind decided

I would not perform as I feel my mind forcing this cast to do
how could I?
Those entrapments gone and it is
merely a free spirit
a once imprisoned mind
tossing in the careless whim of embracing air

....

I desire to experience this throbbing
this weakness
in that part of me that resists my mind's attempt to conciliate
truth I fully believe
with this beautiful pain; wounds self-inflicted
twisting deeper into the raw, undiscovered territory
of this conflicted mind

This is pain that I could not have had courage
to wish for myself
but perhaps
it is true that those desires that torture
take the soul in half willing captivity
create struggle
freeing truth against wishful desire
we will be changed
made more beautiful
our desires
more our own than before
we are one with him.

p.s. this one's for you, God.

- Lydie