I’ve been with you for your entire life. I raised you and taught you everything you know. I fed you, housed you, bathed you, And cleaned up your poop, All while making time for calculus homework. Being a parent is its own reward. Watching your child grow up is like magic, Captured in an hourglass that’s never empty. Time is valuable, and youth is scarce. It’s a shame you decided to waste yours By getting the neighbor’s cat pregnant Before your whiskers were finished growing.
Hate by Zaire Prime
I hate the way his smile makes the moon glow. I hate the way his laugh brings the stars closer. Every inch of my heart hums with hatred, And I’m not sure where to put it. Hatred for how his gaze undoes my glare. Hatred for how his mind mimics mine. In all my life I never guessed I would one day have to cling to hate To shade me from the oppressive sunshine Of love.
Portraying the Pointlessness Of Perspective by Ava Grant
The most comical, Humourous, Exceedingly peculiar declaration in human history Is one person, Only one, Can know themselves Better than someone who Does not know them at all
Subjectivity is the downfall, The undoing, The ruin, Of human understanding
To know oneself Means to know nothing at all For, Of course, Another with only opinion And no knowledge of the matter Will of course have the greatest amount of the latter
To look deep within the soul Will only lead to greater trials As by knowing the whole Of a story Of a mystery Of a life untold Is unsensible As shown throughout our history For seeing Is not seeing at all And walking is best done Only with eyes trapped, Confined by a blindfold
History Has Never Been Wrong by Ava Grant
In history In our history Society has managed to be And continue to be The epitome of perfection
Nothing has happened Nothing is happening And nothing will ever happen That has been Controversial Confusing Wrong Because society Unbeknownst to anyone within it Has managed to scrape by without anything Anything at all That could be questioned
The great minds society Throughout time Have flawlessly proven that women Of any position Are not equal to men
Throughout history Brilliant minds have shown that women All women Are nothing If not servants To their husband To their kids To their household To, Well in essence, Anyone but themselves
Because, As history has proven, Women are of a different breed They were made to be born To get married To not question their position in society To birth a son And ultimately to die Because But of course That is what they were made for
Women As shown in society Were not made to be CEOs Lawyers Engineers Doctors Or anything that a man did not want them to be Because society has never been wrong before So why should it be questioned now
These positions have helped women Not going to school Being a servant to their husband Being told they cannot do something Being paid less It is the dream As history has never been wrong
Parabolic Diversions by Paulo Lombardi
The smallest infinity is numerically inferior to larger infinities that are to the greatest infinity—the all-encompassing infinity. But there is no set of all sets that doesn’t contain itself, as allowing that results in a paradox, so can this infinity even exist? If not, there has to be an innumerable amount of infinities, so that one infinity can never be superior to another—but they can’t continue to be created because that implies that a rate is involved, which suggests that each new infinity would be the “greatest infinity” for an infinitesimal amount of time. Would solving these questions explain the inexplicability of indefinite expansion?
Oh, a noxious shrill! An all-to-familiar shrill! A shrill that abruptly ceases Leo’s nocturnal ponderings and spawns a dreadful thought in his head—he is going to take the SAT that day; six months of dread, six laborious months of gulping down trigonometric functions and hobbling through the abstruse trenches of Homer—all to receive a four-digit value on a computer screen. His ability to recall these esoteric topics will determine which educational institutions he can go to—sheerly because of perceived intellect—and which ones he can not. Leo cracks off the cover of his calculator and powers it on—taking deep breaths to alleviate tension—while a proctor passes out test packets. Plastered on the front of each is the grueling acronym, “SAT.” The timer has started. The ineffable sound of dozens of test packets flipping over causes Leo to recoil in despair. His test grins contemptibly at him while he glares contemptuously at it. One of them will prevail. Amy Jenson—preferably “Dr. Jenson”—sips from her scalding mug of black coffee, quenching her dopaminergic desire again. An overwhelming stack of packets—SATs—rests next to a rebarbative machine, ready to be scanned. Dr. Jenson sighs in frustration, then picks up the first test and puts it in the scanning machine. The apparatus sucks up the packet and hiccups six times before causing a nearby monitor to display the processed content. Thea Crimson—eleven-hundred and fifty. Another test gets processed. Jonathan Roth—eight-hundred and twenty. Another sip from the mug. Richard Knowles—ten-hundred and ninety. One last sigh. Leo Lawliet—sixteen-hundred: an immaculate score. A template manufactured to change the world. A chilling zephyr grasps onto the back of Leo’s long fuliginous hair as the polymath clasps onto his bike and races down Vigere Street. Effulgent crowds—composed of vivacious women and charismatic men—maneuver down alleyways and up stairwells and across roads and beside vehicles, all with countless motives. Everything is seamless, everything is idyllic, everything is irreplaceable. He had outwitted the test. He performed flawlessly. The number of colleges that he can go to is innumerous. It was a nineteen-ninety-two Ford Taurus—teal in complexion, producing one-hundred and sixty horsepower and can shift up to fifth gear. It had exited that alleyway too abruptly, too temerariously, too heedlessly. The zephyr shrieks as it meets the insurmountable fender, yielding a parabolic stream. Trigonometric proportions, circle equations, quadratics, logarithms, syntactical rules, archaic terminology, rhetorical devices, and prosodic tactics—trip from the Taurus to the end of the block. The stream hits the listless pavement and gushes into a drain while Leo glides into the air. A tenebrous void rests beneath him; he has been vanquished; his mind is undefined.