I feel as though
I no longer live in
a space in which
art and life can
peacefully co-
exist.
It’s been a month
since I wrote
my last poem –
even longer since
I wrote one that
was worth
a damn.
This school is
stifling me
in all of its
dispassionate
monotony –
Always-do-this-
essay-turn-in-
this-assignment-
prepare-for-this-
quiz-study-for-
this-exam!
By the time I
am done putting
out the fires
of the day,
all I want to
do is sleep –
Have a few
wistful hours
where I can
pretend I don’t
have to wake up
and do the same
thing tomorrow.
There will always
be more fires.
I am suffocating
under the weight
of my own apathy.
I used to churn out
verse after verse
and now I just
cannot be
bothered to care.
I cannot even
think of a way
to end this poem
so it will end
as it began;
lacking.