Tuesdays Malaise

Poem for Tuesdays

Somebody’s turned down the heat but turned up the volume
Somebody’s scratched the words on this desk with your pencil
Somebody’s making every vacant stare seem to last forever
Somebody shove your hand up if you can still hear me

There’s gossipy headlines blowing in the wind, the hallways are full of rumors
There's too much information and not enough insight sitting on my desk
There's not enough verses, but there’s way too many curses
There’s not enough time on our hands and too many papers to fill

The hype is amplified with all these wires and cell phones dangling out of pockets
The things that you never knew turned out not to be true
The time is running low and there's nowhere else to go
The clock keeps sleepwalking through the afternoon

Everybody bust out your pens and vent your malaise
Everything around here is either drama or trauma
Everytime the door opens, there's air conditioning
Everybody thinks they’re the same as you

And all the conversations are multiplying
And you write everything like you just don't care how it looks
And the roof is falling in from too much adolescent energy
And my brain feels like it's getting eaten up by the termites