4 o’clock,still the evening to my routine,but might as well be tomorrow.

regurgitations litter the screen,the redundant words: in conclusion burning into my exhausted eyes.

I’ll hand this mess in,surrender to critique,a sticky note will be offered that reads: satisfactory, has potential.

the Professor,certified to analyze me, judge me, and feed me,ignorant youth fed by the aged ignorant youth.

5 o’clock,I’ve made some progress,finished clipping my nails

the High-School tourist,dreaming false dreams of college,the best time of their lives,full of sex, drugs, rock and rolland blah blah blahall of them naïve.

6 o’clock,my face is engraved with the grid of the keyboard,and my coffee spread over the floor

college life,awarded the most freedom,receiving the most responsibility,harboring the most tension,subjected to the most work,an organized chaos of assessment.

11 o’clock,class ended 30 minutes ago,”in conclusion” still on the glowing box,and my face still unconscious on the alphabet grid.