Anthology

It happens every week if we want it to or not.
It turns our eyes to jelly, and our brilliant brains to rot.
Chemistry, that vile work, the bane of our existence,
It takes every fiber of my being to concentrate and listen.
The class is hard, the class is long and of course it is no fun.
We sit right down with open mouths and the drool begins to run. There’s no thinking, there’s no thoughts, I only stare ahead.
It’s amazing every word she says slips straight on through my head. We don’t deserve this, we’ve been wronged, this cannot be fair,
the clock behind me going slower the longer that I stare.
I cannot speak, I cannot move or smile or grin or laugh,
for I am stuck in purgatory for this hour and a half.