Therapy

I'm having a hard time accepting I'm already of ripe age. A few attempts at being mature and capable of being aware of my surroundings because most of the time I tend to lose myself in a daze:

Bus Ride

Early morning stupor
and the yellow box whirs to consciousness.
A whistled tune to my right
but my head wants to shut it out.
Cold breath on my hands
and they feel so distant;
yet my body is warm
in my yellow frock coat.
All humming, humming,
save that whistled tune,
and the morning light fills
with a thousand flying stars.

I wrote this on a whim while waiting for Calculus class to begin and for my classmates to arrive. For some reason, I always end up being the first to enter the classroom.


Passer La Nuit

Quiet blue,
spread above my head like soft satin sheets,
sharp intensity glowing underneath
a stretch of gradient glossy hues:
plum and carmine, quiet blues;
Times past, affairs man-made
and the cacophony of war pervades.
Only the quiet blue perceives
the account of bygone morns and eves.

You learn to appreciate the darkness (not of the heart; this is a child-friendly blog) when you forget about it entirely. I was walking alone from dinner (here in the dormitory area, there are several karinderyas that feed us less horrifying food. We have to walk quite a distance to reach them, though) and the wind was so cold and nice and just darling that I was compelled to stand outside on the lawn for a minute or two (weird kid).

I have two exams tomorrow. Where's a wishbone when you need one?