it's a rhyming sort of day somethingwrite

In the midst of fists of fafsa, trying to be faster to master scholarships than the other scholars, tripping over our minds, trying to find locked away social security on a card, the impurities on our transcripts, transcribing themselves into our DNA, keeping away those places, the one where my place is especially, the specialty school where I'll learn to expand and demand more of my self in a calm way, a safe way but not the grocery store, unsure of where I put my envelopes so important yet unportant because if I could cry out and they could hear me, they wouldn't fear the cees so deep on my grade reports, reporting insecurities and unsurities insincerely above my signature, signing here and there, selling my soul to be sold again and again, pretending I'm remembering life-altering memories but there's a tad of fiction on my cheek, friction in my speech, the words leaking absurdities into my palms, my lips reciting psalms I never learned but heard like birds heralding in Sunday rafters, waiting for the rapture when the admissions board admits them and bars me and three of my most disciplined disciples, waiting for a holy ghost, a shadow really, to trust our rusty excuses and see there are muses dancing behind our eyes, not waiting for a compromise because I know myself, I won't keep my bottles on a shelf holding in their elixirs, their potions and party mixers, not needing cocktails to enjoy a cocktail party, a snail's pace, a race between my tongue and my brain, each convincing the other it's insane to aim so high, for this color of the sky on my favorite day, waiting for me to say I'm on my way while it shines in all its glory, waiting for mine, waiting for the delicious it can't see, the precious it can't buy, at least not without financial aid, made to let me fall but maybe not, as the semesters I've got can't count with the government, invisible men I think, thinking they'll buy new suits tomorrow, a red tie will suit his brow furrowing, saying no thanks we'll take the harvard reject, inject her disappointment into an enthusiastic appointment for an interview in just the right department, falling apart, each worry in its own compartment and my heart aches like a cliche on the window sill, waiting for the wind still, snow's even better, to freeze my thoughts when I get my rejection letter.