Lanie McLeod (15)
Untitled
these disparities are not only in my head.
crawling, they worm their way
up my spine
and under the covers of my bed.
tarantula compresses my chest,
shadow on the ceiling
this dream is my only reality.
what is awake? what is asleep?
and how can i differentiate
when they feel the same?
i walk around in a daze.
(enter dreamer falling from the sky)
these disparities are only in my head.
the spider slowly makes its way
through my brain
and into the cracks of my mental facade.
it squeezes my mind,
ties it into its twisted web–
there is no contrast here
only two dreams and an empty world between.
{Ø}
there are days i wonder what we’re looking for
and even have the heart to search for it myself
solving it: s = {it | it > us}
calculators and pencils out
high stakes: mistakes you can never erase
pressure driving me so insane
i can’t hear myself thinking; i’m becoming
so drained my water-body is sinking–
i always give up in the end,
abandon the math, wait behind a curtain
watch the others create the lives they want
those who continue fill out the graph paper as if it is a checklist
they don’t stop to wonder if they’ve boxed in the wrong square,
if maybe they’ve trapped themselves with those fatal pencil lines
null:
sometimes there is no solution–
the empty set.
Lanie McLeod is fifteen years old and writes poetry, both in traditional formats and for spoken word. She runs @aceofwordss on Instagram, and that is the main way she gets her work out into the world. She has been writing seriously for three years. She is also a musician and competitive dancer.
Untitled
these disparities are not only in my head.
crawling, they worm their way
up my spine
and under the covers of my bed.
tarantula compresses my chest,
shadow on the ceiling
this dream is my only reality.
what is awake? what is asleep?
and how can i differentiate
when they feel the same?
i walk around in a daze.
(enter dreamer falling from the sky)
these disparities are only in my head.
the spider slowly makes its way
through my brain
and into the cracks of my mental facade.
it squeezes my mind,
ties it into its twisted web–
there is no contrast here
only two dreams and an empty world between.
{Ø}
there are days i wonder what we’re looking for
and even have the heart to search for it myself
solving it: s = {it | it > us}
calculators and pencils out
high stakes: mistakes you can never erase
pressure driving me so insane
i can’t hear myself thinking; i’m becoming
so drained my water-body is sinking–
i always give up in the end,
abandon the math, wait behind a curtain
watch the others create the lives they want
those who continue fill out the graph paper as if it is a checklist
they don’t stop to wonder if they’ve boxed in the wrong square,
if maybe they’ve trapped themselves with those fatal pencil lines
null:
sometimes there is no solution–
the empty set.
Lanie McLeod is fifteen years old and writes poetry, both in traditional formats and for spoken word. She runs @aceofwordss on Instagram, and that is the main way she gets her work out into the world. She has been writing seriously for three years. She is also a musician and competitive dancer.