Writing to write

Laughing to cry

Crying to laugh

Stress of the future

Trouble of the past

Broken computers

Mind filled with wrath

Doing the best I can

With what I have left

With only 12 days

I feel sad and glad

Appreciating all the good times I’ve had

But before doing that I need to finish what I started

I’m running out of time.

My mind is a mess

From the inside to outside

Organizing whats left

Running out of breathe

Staying strong if i try

But easy to wine

Trying my best not to lie

To everything that I keep inside

Hope my energy keeps running

Till I run out of sight

I need your golden rays

I need your carefree attitude

I need this weight from off of my back

I need the ocean that breaks its waves

I need that time at home with family

I need that peace with my dearest friends

Oh summer I’m ready, are you ready for me?

I just need your peace of simplicity

Moods deepen within the shade.

My eyes tired with a wired gaze

I try to keep positive, but the stress weighs over

Trying to stay in control, but running out of energy.

I need more fuel to keep engine burning.

But what burns will burn out

And what ignites will shine

Until some one blows out the candle light

My hands are shaking for many diverse reasons.

Perhaps its my body pleading for treason

But this is what happens towards the end of the season

A useful tool if one knows how to use it.

A deadly tool if one doesn’t.

i feel its the random luck of the draw to determine which day I understand and which I can’t.

My mind is scattered leaving bits and pieces everywhere. Problem lies when I go back to re-trace my steps when its too late.

I need to clean my mind. Clean my body. Clean my heart. Clean my room. Clean my work. Clean

Washing my face helps wake the mind. The cold water creeping through my hair, seducing goosebumps out of their mid-night slumber. Trickling down my face like a roar of thunder.

I shake my head until this thought blows over

People babbling

Stress Increasing

Ciggerates smoking

Energy blazing

Fingers typing

Caffeine raging

Mind numbing

Heart pumping

Foot thumping

Knees shaking

Eyes waking

Risk taking

Head Aching

Sleep deprived

Mind stretched wide

No wear to hide

Out of time

This week has just been one of those weeks. Right when the 2nd semester is about to end, all this work piles up in the last few moments we have left to enjoy. It started when my computer stopped working a week ago. My computer seemed okay, however my screen just wouldn’t turn on. I took it in to GRC and they said I had to send it in, because my screen was broken. What an inconvient time for something like this to happen. Anyway I rolled with it, b/c theres not much I can do other than try to save all the important information on my flash drive to carry around campus. My friend had a projector that he hooked up to my computer so I could view my desk top from the projected image. Anyway I used it mainly to finish my unit 4 paper, however last night when I was making the final corrections, I left in one of the public computers in the 1st floor in the library. I realized about 10-15 mins afterwards to find it gone after going back to check. The main desk hadn’t seen it or anything, and was forced to re-write my paper on top of all the other work I had to complete last night. I running out of room to breathe I feel. I keep feeling overwhemled with all the shit I have to complete in the last week. hope i can survive

As the birds chirp their songs

Far away from the farms

Where I used to belong

With my new friends

I enjoy the last weeks

Before leaving again

Filled with grief & relief

While balancing work

With my socialized life

Enjoying all the quirks

That come along with the ride

Producing electricity, feeling weak in the knees

Emotions dance in a trance like wild cats

Growling for a long awaited mid night snack

The keys roar louder with percussion that follow

Flying high in the sky like the sons of apollo

Standing comfortable in their chariots of fire

Seducing the energy out of societies pliers

So one better get a grip before his hands have slipped

Upon the sounds of a musician blowing out what was lit

As random strangers begin to dance in choreography

They feel the jive in their thighs regardless of geography

Producing cheshire smiles from all vibrant people

Together they understand preaching their artists steeples

Of love and war to life and death

Where everyone speaks, and everyone rests

Just as jazz gives people the purpose to be

Whatever it is that sets them free to speak