September

Tomorrow is homecoming. It would be an oppurtune night to die and watch The Graduate and learn guitar and study. But instead I'll write a little something about sleeping.

Red eyelid mornings
in a green orchard field
10 is the Sun on it's way from far east
somewhere between flannel and sheets
orchard grass cut in hammocks
over green grass, swinging

Much too late to wake up
cover myself in grasses
and spend time watching the apples ripen
breathing in dusty, dewey alfalfa beside my bed
my mouth tasting like peanut butter

Rolling over to catch
that mocking bird twittling out
a laughing snide remark at my extreme bed head
I try to hid my eyes
behind my blood eyelid red




School--Life
"oh I'm just a failure rolling in misery

like if I was a reese cup

misery would be my choclatey covering

and peanut butter would be my soft creamy failure"