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Scholastic Hallucinogen
November 28, 2011
When anger isn’t anger,
everything’s too loud.
Chatter in the halls echo
as white noise,
and emphasize themselves in static wails.
Wall spin,
my own optical illusion.
Pink, green, blue flyers
all flap above bubblers.
Shrieking fanblades of the option I refuse.
Bubblers spray cold water,
drown me in nickel salted seas.
I keep my eyes shut,
so chaos cant see,
the weakness in me.
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