"Can I see you all visibly check your pockets?"
That's funny, I think, I don't even have pockets.
Okay. No talking. No smiling. No fidgeting.
There. Must. Be. No. Noise.
We are as still as fishes
"You can turn over- rustle of pages being turned
This silence isn't silence. They lied.
Nothing about this room is quiet
Our breath is louder than talking
Our pens are screaming
The air conditioning is a plane taking off.
It's funny that our passage is about failure. Ironic, I think.
So I write- 'what I think the writer is trying to say;It's okay to fail- Even exams,'
Not that I believe that, but I'll bet tis what they want to hear.
'All Flesh is Grass,"
I like that, It reminds me of Whitman and pretending like I understand poetry
So I think, if all flesh is grass
All thoughts are birds
I can see it, a tiny robin sitting by my pile of biros