Wasted Poem

May 2, 2016

Wednesday, minute past midnight, wooden chair & desk,
chemistry begging to be studied, me bored enough
to count the number of split ends in my ragged braid—
rather cliché I slouch here again
with radio music influencing my mind & what to write,
eyes unfocused on black hair, thinking about
which scent of shampoo to use tomorrow morning.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback