Standard

what i’m gonna do
now

pick up pieces like i pick up scattered clothes like i pick up this goddamn book again like i pick up where i left off with the many i thought i left behind

head’s foggy filled with thoughts of different times and different ways of being thoughts
covering feelings hiding what’s the truth anyway about how i feel except what i think it is?

clean sweep, clean slate, clean up this small space, these dusty floors, this face

no more time to waste to spend on

silly things to

take to replay scenes unexplained or unexpressed and incomplete

 

(finals in six days?!?)

such a–false sense of urgency remixes priorities mixed up thoughts mixing up what’s right with what’s important–like how are people trying to say that racism is over and we need to stop being so damn over-sensitive…i’m sure Sikhs would tell you otherwise…i’m sure Jeremy Lin after being traded and they blew up his facebook and twitter would say otherwise

and if walls could talk

load-bearing and tall they are would speak to the weight of the institution, these invisible strings, this unseen noose speak truth that just as walls need no one to hold them up since their maker

so too walls of institutional oppression need no one person being racist to be racist…

can we talk about that for a hot second?

what’s to miss? missed class, miss family, missing elsewhere, but

time’s
up.

i would love to, but i can’t i’m in law school.

 

~laura

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