academia (lost in translation)

everybody is high
and
chilling,

verdant herb turned,
burnt,
and served in
a chillum;

and i’m sitting in this armchair
drowning in academic pressure.

it’s pain for pleasure
when the clever
motherfuckers

are trapped between infinity
and summertime’s
distant promises.

getting fucked up is the common denominator
and over and over i’m the numerator
swimming in mathematical
pop culture.

copped a feel from
one of Mario’s koopas
and asked for its opinion
on kaleidoscopic kamasutra.

the roof is burning
and the useless cliches
are decaying crossbeams.

high is low
and low is romanticized.

death certificate written
in the credit card barcode of a lifetime
renter
and glorified misery is
the barrycenter.

look at the poet, man,
goddamn,
his stanzas are going
super saiyan

and all he wants to do
is show you
what it

means.

Willie Watt
2.13.16

.

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