In class I lay my head down on the hard desk like Bedsheets
My thoughts half heard, half spoken in questions
Not answered as I'm awoken by the teachers questions asked
I know nothing yet to lay my head down, to forget what surrounds and no more
Will I be willing to participate
Since I'm only hushed when I'm awake
I'll just somnambulate
Walking through hallways of beige and brown and loud sounds
That barely rouse me
My head swimming livid with the quiet around me
and when my teachers want to hear my questions
and when my teachers can answer my questions
I'll awake gladly, I'll lift up my head
But until then, I only give them a head borroughed in the crook of my elbows
A bit of drool coming from lips, no longer words
That they've bound me to, I will no longer participate only somnambulate
Until my desk bedsheets are ripped from my head
With their cold embrace I will take to the whiteboard my full eyes attention
But until then I stare at my elbows crook, refusing to face the real crooks
of my intention.
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