Final’s Week

I’m eating possibly three-month-old yogurt

While trying to think of the words that would fit how I feel right now.

I’m hunched over an overcooked corn-colored desk

That has seen me only get five hours of sleep about in six days.

The computer standing tall on the overworked desk

is built with expensive parts primarily for gaming

but is only used to comprehend shitty final exam papers.

Whereby the end of one paper is about how

Frankenstein is a product of alchemy

while another one is about how W.H. Auden had mysticism in his poetry,

yet he repulsed the idea.

There is now a pool party for caffeine-fueled tears

with the smoke coming from my brain

Acting as the night sky,

Covering the bleak white ceiling slowly with

every paper being pushed out.

Notes and books sprawled out covering the floor

Looking like bodies of dead literature are now

plaguing the pool party of my own creation.

Bed sheets are unkept alongside the backpack

overused and starting to discolor.

There’s no time for the upkeep of laundry when you

stop for a second not ruthlessly typing away you fall asleep

standing up.

again.

I wish the punk rock music I have on loop could

sprout limbs from the overqualified computer

and just run down to the store and get more energy drinks and crackers.

The crackers are used as reinforcements for my body

so it can keep drinking from a can that looks

like what my piss will be like if I could stop vomiting into the toilet.

Maybe if I consume more energy drinks

donning the sign of a green three-pronged claw mark

I can mimic being drunk and forget how this week makes me feel.

But that will never happen no matter how many drinks

I consume or how depressed I get.

The daydreaming department in my brain has been moved out

for being “nonessential”

But that was only really done to give more space

for the insomnia and delirium department.

My body knows what it is doing and wants to stop

But it can’t.

The college demands work

I have to keep working so I use the piece of paper at the end of the tunnel

to get a career to pay back the government for giving me pocket change

so I can go to college.

Even now I’m compacted in doubled layered clothing

With the window open even though it is 50 degrees,

it makes the room feel so open.

Like there is nothing in this confined dorm room

but yet there is something

There is always something during this time t

hat the illusion of openness can’t ever change.

The grotesque feeling of anxiety and stress taking residence

in the same dorm as I.

These emotions are a creation of my crude mind

Even after this week is over my body will heal to an extent

The only thing I will have to live with is the urge to urinate lingering in my genitals.

Down the road, I’ll talk to my therapist about this week and the coming final weeks

About how emotions made a busy hotel with my head, and I just had to deal with it.

Sadly, I can’t ever just deal with it, I have to let go.

I can’t let go through; this cocktail of emotions is the reasoning

for writing this poem.

All these emotions were real but now are tired.

They slumber in these words for the next time eyes lay upon it.

It’s hard to let go of the emotions when they are right here

in the lines that wanted to be held

But I have to let go.

It’s another step in growing up.