Highschool Blues

I remember to clean the black,
handbag that sits in front of me.
Rid myself of stupid questions, dwellings
that make my face hurt.

Rabmling on until our days end.
The annoying boy shuts up his smile,
and stores it away in a book.
Atleast he can attain one today.

But the encompetent essays,
the morals, the pains that, when given a chance,
incompletely deceive the foe
into a sullen mess.
Fuckit!
Inconceivable lies squeezed,
into a tube of whistles and shits.
Words put into the mouths of disbelievers,
People without a face.

Textbooks taunt and whimper at their thoughts.
I sit here, knowing I know not
The simplistics of life.