Learning, turning, burning,
of the fingers.
Glaring, staring, straining,
of the retina.
Oh how the mind swells,
and the thoughts dwell.
The skin on your finger tips rot,
as the paper slowly stacks.
Never focused to a single thought,
lke a deer scared in its tracks.
The mammoth stands before you,
to read me it implores you.
Starting at one and on to infinity,
creating a mindset of confused trinity.
Of wanting to stop, turn, and blink,
but what you really are at is your mind's brink.
Like a loudening crescendo,
it builds in your thoughts.
Mind becoming playdough,
as the damn thing rots.
Still ever the pages pile higher,
while the thoughts burn like fire.
All the time you think,
why did I take too many a class.
While blood from your nose drips in the sink,
and you could kick your self in your stupid ass.
Then like the final thought of a bug on car glass,
your head bursts with ideas, but that one's your last.