The Vandal

At 12:40,
A wild goose chase investigation began
Headed by the teachers and counselor 
Magnifying glasses drawn out, 
Photographs taken, 
Boards stabbed with pins.

It wasn't their job, see,
But they did the best they could. 
They asked around, eyebrows scrunched
With worried lines on their faces 
Asking, please, if someone, anyone
Knew of the vandal.

They pleaded, at 12:50,
With the scientific militaristic scouring of papers 
Cold clinical counselling lights holding steady
Frantic flipping and whispering 
Heard throughout the classrooms 
Heard throughout the campus 
The vandal, a master of their criminal act 
Left no signs at all

Yes, none—
Except for the ink bleeding from the same pen on the math test
The debate on a higher existence in class
The worried lines on their face
Skin, arms and thighs

How many more people entered the girls washroom
At 12:34, hand in pocket 
Fingers clutched around the ticket to out of here
And how many more people exited the girls washroom
At 12:37 , hand in pocket
Fingers stained with a smudge of black
As dark their hair
Their eyes 
Their future

There was always more than one.

Mint 

Mint feels like dead bugs and sunny days
Cats and sweltering skies
Like the feeling of a sticky cold— if that's even possible
And the look in your eyes when I take out the candy jar

Mint smells like feeling faint
Sweat running down my neck
The only cold I could feel for hours 
It stings my lungs as much as the heat does

Mint tastes like the bus ride home
A sore throat and a blue tongue 
Talking about how bad things were 
But how it was worth it anyway, because it tastes sweet in the end

Mint sounds like you asking me for a piece
And another, and another
It sounds like me giving you as much as I brought
And you unwrapping the wrapper

Mint looks like how back in November
You asked for my hand, I gave you some candy
Because it's all I had then
And it's all I have now

Are bugs human?

I have way too many legs,
The number is four
Is it more efficient to only have two?
I thought the more the merrier 
But that rule doesn't apply here 
So I guess I'll try something else.

I have way too many wings,
The number is two.
Is it better to stay flat on the ground?
I thought the higher you could go, the better,
But that rule doesn't apply here
So I guess I'll try something else.

I have way too little fingers,
The number is actually zero.
I thought it had to be?
That rule doesn't apply here either.
I don't know what else to try.

There's nothing really left of me anymore.

Headlights

A twig scatters a herd like the fog scatters red 
Scarlet retina evanescent glowing
A pinprick turns into a hole
And a hole turns into a rip
Filtering the light through the toothpick dots in my enclosure

The fog, thicker than the thoughts swirling in my mind
Thicker then than the trees in the forest itself—
Obscured the past 
Present
And the future

From then on I heard someone whisper to me
Right over the sharp bellow of the red before me 
"Have you had enough?"
And what I wanted to say was "no",
But the light at the end of the tunnel 
From a pinprick to a gaping maw,
Swallowed me whole

The fog scattered red again
And there was no herd left

Your father stayed quiet when you yelled
"No one likes me, no one helped."
Your mother cried when you said
"The girls at school want me dead."

Your friends worried every day
If you would wake up, if you were okay
You believe you did that to yourself 
But that's too hard to say
So you blamed it on everyone else 
And pushed them away

And every time you pleaded your case
Someone yelled, someone said you could be replaced
They didn't mean it, but you didn't see that
So you quieted down and quietly walked away
You know they want help, but you ignore them anyway