demiurgent

Sitting in a too hot classroom too near dawn
Listening to the bored man boring students
Rubbing tired eyes while watching green chalkboards
Having works scribbled on them in powdery off-white
I put my head down on my notebook
Next to the incoherent ink that is my handwriting
Which parrots the semicoherent words of my teacher
Who told me poetry was imagery,
Bitches.