I went to a private school—
a place of higher learning
the only thing we ever learned
was how high we could get
needles entrenched into our veins
beautiful, white coarse crystals
lying out on our bed stands
our upperclassmen told us
it was stardust to acclimate
us into student life on campus
We believed them.
Nobody knew at the time
the beautiful crystals
that we thought were
ground up diamonds
was just something
to ease our pain while
we were beaten by other
students. Ritualistic hazing
the same pain that our
new upperclassmen once felt
We trusted them.
They trusted them.
Just as the kid they told
that he was too fat
to ever think outside
the ice cream box
he never escaped
he walked to the dark,
murky creek nearby
and ascended to the
highest branch of
the tallest oak tree
he attempted to hang
himself with a rope
of red licorice.
The rope broke.
The painful memories
and the jagged, moss-covered
rocks below broke him.
his name was never spoke again
not even by the teachers.
We were being controlled.
Our upperclassmen
beat us unmercifully,
I tried to fight back,
I was pumped full of
the euphoric juice
that coursed through
my veins many times before
the pinch as the needle
dove into my shallow, pale skin
more stardust was shoved into
my nose, which I thought was silly
alas, I could not do a thing
All of this pain, torture, euphoria
Is it really worth $6000 a quarter?