I look,

at you

yet past you

polka dot freckles burn red with apprehensiveness

Bronze hair flares

like a porcupine

on the wrong end of the taser.

I hear your thum-ping drum,

feel your desk quivering,

the sound of your purple BIC pen,

smacking the ground.

cutting the pressing silence

like a firecracker,

on a November afternoon.

I look up at you,

looking at me.

Soul-less, grey eyes cloudy

zipping back and forth like

ping-pong

between my unblinking eyes.

Searching for a change an emotion.

I feel my face burning

inside out.

the viscious red demon

fueling the flames of lust

swims just under my eyes 

tickling my face.

We burn together,

the flames brighten and

as soon as they come

they're gone.