Writing

i toured six different colleges over the past week

& i didn't care about the clubs

Her room smelled of lavender and gardenias

As we lay under silky rays of sun

And danced around the truth in long, snaking sentences,

Words falling over one another until they

Became nothing, only syllables

                                                        YONDR

On the swing I sway

I stay there all day

My thoughts like the clouds

Floating away

it's snowing,

again,

and through the endless endless white and the soft ticking of the grandfather clock

on the wall i halfheartedly wonder what the cardinal

in the bird feeder thinks of this.

I wake up and stare at the bland ceiling, not moving for a while. I don't know how long I was sitting there, there are no clocks in here. No clocks, no posters, no windows, save for the small, barred slit in the top of the wall.