First Semester

Writing is like recording our life course term paper,
our fucking smice scourse earnnnned yaper,
is basically what all this shit sounds like

No one cares where we go now?,
only asking “can we smoke now?”
This hasn’t changed in years,
used to be squares, but this stuff moves in bags,
it moves with sly red eyes
through every city in our country.

Or so it seems.

College freshman with a minor in Ableton,
talking all this Aristotle, but has anyone even bothered
to hear these little punks out.

But I’m just one of them too.
Slugging my backpack from east to south campus.
Five dream catchers on my wall,
and I still can’t sleep at night.