Student/Teacher

Teacher

For a time I’ve attempted constructing a way to illustrate It. But It seems to resist all fathomable descriptions, choosing to shift it’s standings incessantly. Almost like a feverish apparition, It swims through one with such passion and abandon, the sensation is rather striking. Sometimes, you’ll just assume you’ve had some profound emotion, as if you of all people understand the mechanics of the human mind. But then, then… a desert, filling your lungs, the sands plugging your ears and nose, a perpetual heavy, slow spinning, Dustbowl of the mind.

Student

It’s astonishing, those times when you come across a gem of an educator. Those that are the picture of scholarly. Those that traveled, that know countries first hand. Those that allow their students to come closer, to see and actual human being within the classroom. Someone you can’t help but be slightly… infatuated with. I admit to wondering what really goes on behind his teacher-ly façade. I like to think myself as someone who might understand the overpowering truth of human existence, the Great Human Tragedies, and somehow I’ve managed to build this man up to hold a quintessential element of it within his own musings. As to why this person… I’ll never know.

Teacher

Or masses of tiny hammers, raining upon a carefully, yet delicately crafted paper buffer, tearing away at the very flesh of this mind. Many times I’ve allowed my mind to probe that delicate subject that many deem madness. Perversity. Rashness. Irresponsibility. Cowardess. Ssssss. But these eyes no longer are kept, and this curiosity is refusing to curl towards something prolific.

I’ve always thought, even as a youth, that I would somehow overcome, and produce such weighty philosophies as to bring all to understanding. Lately, I simply cannot articulate my views, and it’s become such a burden. Something must be done… and It was.

Student

Catastrophe. How can one simple act seem to doom my own being? Is it not possible to see beyond, and be happy? Defining. A brain of rare sorts, testing Its own ‘self-destruct’. Oh, such impending calamity, I believe my whole complex has been shaken! Whatever shall become of this down-and-out? I fear that maybe we are simply skewed reflections of one another, that perhaps this is a defining moment in my life. Sickeningly, I almost feel as if I understand. The grief I feel is not for that that was set free, but for that that remains… although I could never express that. I grow heavy.