something in my step,
in my walk,
must show how i'm drugged/sedated
by each textbook and every responsibility.
laden with promises i never made,
i wander this labyrinth
and wonder
if i will wander until...
"DEATH."

death, written on a boys backpack,
that is the word that greets me.
however dramatic it appears,
it is only an attempt at symbolism
in the surrounding motley of
mediocracy
and mindnumbing
inconsistency.

you spin to reach me,
backpedaling on plans made weeks ago.
i go on to walk another hall.
one crisp white shirt
floats in the throng,
proclaiming "LIFE" in
technicolor.

life, fulfilling the american dream.
filling up every hole with
picket fences
cars
houses
children
success.

familiar tinted glasses and martinis
remove the sting of seeing
everything
as it is.