Flakes from my fingers to my eyes,
As I rub the to-dos into lashes
And stare at the checkboxes for yesterday
Open like a balloon puffed up with
One too many moles of molecules.
Pressure and pop;
The molecules whiz out.
I buy a new balloon.
Fill it with just the right amount
of moles of molecules of atoms
Of nitrogen, oxygen, CO2,
And watch the chalk dust flutter alongside
As I try to hack it out of my respiratory system.
I think chalk might be fused into my veins.
Highlighters my nail polish,
And my blood
Is the ink of a thousand pens.
After the other
Dries into stone until
I can give a fuck about whoever Hammurabi is,
And why we wrote an essay about his tablet in the sixth grade.