A collection of works pulled from my math notes

Bored Suburbia

My heart lies in a feild 200 years ago
Soil tilled with swollen blistered hands
Daybreak becomes my morning break
I awake

I find life without direction
I hear "
Ill be happy unless i follow the path laid before me
I wont be happy if i dont
I cant be what you think i could

gunshot, non poetic rhetoric
sleep





Your just praising hitler in yiddish

I ditest lowering myself to join you



I can smell your cancer
Im sure you can see your fate
Give up now and alliviate us,
From your presence in this world
I can smell your cancer

Sleep deprived, maintaining on fear
why else would i be here
anti-trend is killing me
but i wouldnt be happy with conformity




I fall to my knees in frustration
your arrogance is unfounded
-think-
the line between a cry for help and a cry for attention defined by violence and acts of god