Bell rings, in class again, with Shim trippin'
Over my outstretched legs. Head back, eyes closed,
I'm guessin' answers to this question posed.
Convertin' grams to moles, I'm grippin'
...
A razor blade, my love, and I walked it,
Along it's silver edge, cutting my feet
Struggling to keep my balance as it bit
Deep into my skin with no way to treat
...
To look upon you is a thing of joy,
Though I should feign blindness, I see you well,
You seem an angel, which from heaven fell,
Quiet by accident and are far too coy
...
Science major dabbling in philosophy, literature, art, music, and (of course) poetry. Inspired by a hodgepodge of events in my life, by my readings, by my drawings or (as many poets are) by women.)
An Ode To Chemistry
Bell rings, in class again, with Shim trippin'
Over my outstretched legs. Head back, eyes closed,
I'm guessin' answers to this question posed.
Convertin' grams to moles, I'm grippin'
My pencil, writin' 'gainst the clock, gropin'
For my calculator. Now I've exposed
Myself as a fool who can't add and dozed
Off early last night. So now I'm flippin'
Out 'cause the test's a week away and I'm
Royally screwed. The answer's up. Again
I'm wrong. Damn SigFigs. Smiles of perverse glee
Radiate from Shim. He speaks: 'This time
It was a tricky one...' and my wracked brain
Wonders: 'Is it too late to take history? '