Student Life August 2019

RECOVERY
POEM BY SOLOMON HOLMES
It spreads like a tumour, a virus,
a vile rumour
around an industrial high
school playground.
It stings the air
like hail on frozen cheekbones,
dust on a blustery day.
It breathes doubt into belief
Strips the sanity from grief
That feeling before a spree.
It stings the air like smog on a
built up estate
stale smoke from the last puffs
of a cigarette.
It’s a truculent trickster,
Con artist with nothing to sell.
Welcomes you with open arms
Wears a vacant glare, a menacing grin.
Looks you straight in the eyes as
it robs you senseless.
It stings the air
corrupting the confidences of
all those around.
That feeling before a blowout.
Manipulates the matter surrounding
for a cheap thrill
Reaping the weeping souls of
whenever,
wherever,
whoever…
It’s got a wad of terminology
taking every chance to prevent,
Any signs of logical progression,
Any chance to circumvent.
It stings the air
like a misjudged joke at a dinner table.
Insecurities are secured
They’re part of the contract.
It stings the air
Then refuses to sit within the atmosphere
It performs with a totalitarian sincerity
To an audience sick of all of the lies
With the absolute best of intentions
It doesn’t intend to provoke demise.
Misunderstood in its simplicity
It covers itself up to sustain.
That luscious lascivious, intoxicating glow
It’d do anything just to feel whole again.
It finds its home in everyone,
though there are some that it prefers.
It waits for you to be calm,
waits for you to be
Floating in tranquility across the
placid lake of reality.
Awaits the perfect time to cause a storm.
Somewhere down the stream
it’ll find its place.
Somewhere down the stream
you’ll forget it’s there.
It stings the air
You’ll just have to learn to put
on more layers.
21 • ART• STUDENT LIFE