It always begins with…
What the hell am I writing about?
a question which cries college,
when did writing become a mission,
and grant merits,
from my point of view,
research is trivial,
this paper is minimal,
but why does it carry so much weight?
when the assignment is crap,
and you know it is,
you can’t take it seriously,
and why should you?
the instructors don’t realize the struggle,
taking on the role of a scribe,
“it’s college,” you tell yourself,
I have to finish this paper,
each paragraph is integral,
but my head aches,
the writer’s blockade persists,
as unwieldy expectations fill my noggin,
like a glass of cold milk,
opaque and dense,
sours if left on its own,
despite the nauseating smell,
a breakthrough comes,
clearing the finish line at the last minute,
perhaps making an ‘A’,
but then again that’s one class,
scribbling notes are policy,
English majors beware,
be ready for the nightmare,
the forest of the dead awaits you,
and if you’re not,
then I still pity you,
because pulling apart language is in your future,
long nights and brainstorms a-plenty!
a temptuous beast she is,
citation for that source please!
add a comma…here, here, and here;
red marks reminiscent of a crime scene,
it’s grammar not grammer…
why are typos all over the place?
oh yeah…it was 3am when my pencil stopped moving,
college keeps me up at nite,
it fills my veins with certainty,
as I enter in this classroom,
making the rounds,
I find my seat in front,
tuning into academic scripture.