The Strains of Academia

The Strains of Academia

I often find myself
a head full of helium
a balloon on a string
upon leaving the
classroom
the great works
still red on my tongue

Swinging brazenly
with knuckles out
a chest of airs I
find myself
counting the steps
to my car needing
a cigarette to
calm my jitters

I need to write
the urge overcomes
me like a purple lust
blinding me except
for the keys
and the images
that flutter about
my brain

To be one of them
great and admired
a mystique given
to a select few
young students
scratching their necks
struggling about
my gift

But it all comes
crashing down
burnt to embers
when I actually
crack my knuckles
and fingers about
the words

It’s times like
this I give up
defeated
drown a bottle
And write of you