a study of a school day, three quarters long
By: ShinigamiForever

Art waited 7 minutes for us and 2 more for our excuses,
but in this case imitation fell a few steps short of the real thing.
Life went on, undaunted, for what were we,
a couple of candy-footed, nauseously ignorant critics
who had come to tear apart and through, but never around.

The sewers were bold and infantile when we went in.
Now they have long white tresses
and insist on blinding us, with nothing better to do
than sit waiting for messiahs that never come.

We are messiahs,
but not the ones they, or anybody,
were waiting for.

Anyway. Nothing was too disturbed by us coming and leaving,
things are planned like that, just enough so I can forgive and forget,
but too hard over the head. Says the pothole on the road, "Too
late! Looks like you'll have to start again at the beginning again!"
Guess we can't have our cake, eat it, and not make a mess.

I know what you would say. You would tell me
that greed looks unhealthy and I should live and let live.
I'll tell you that in my dreams, I'm always jealous of someone,
if not you, then like you,
who mildly hates and vehemently doesn't care and tepidly loves.

It's another thing entirely, though, what's between you and me,
and maybe that person sitting in the audience,
holding chins against leveled roads and sleeping on sidewalks.
You caught on rather quickly. That can be your good side.
I'll just dig myself a hole between your ribcage and your shoulder blade,
and take up refuge in the scapula, because everyone needs some saving grace.

Fear of silence, sacrilege, warriors plummeting Carthage, and that singular
subtlety you encompass when smiling. Remind me next time to bring
sunglasses and be wary of sunlight streaming through windows.
You've run out of meaningful things to say at arms distance.
How about I back a foot away and give you dreaded personal space.
Each man alone in an isolation cell of oxygen and carbon dioxide
seems to make more progress than all the nudist colonies put together.

I am not billy saying anyone's name.
I am not McNamara demanding billy to say his name.
And I am not Cathleen,
and I am not a lover
and I am not the things I am not.

I am looking for spaces, pauses, loopholes,
grateful, unbecoming, infused, destabilized.

And you are not what you seem to be.
That is all.



A/N: Yes, that is a reference to Rose of Dresden's lovely story, School Day.