The meandering rivulets forming the stream of my consciousness
belies the constraints of time
“Turn in your quiz!”
The smooth feel of the purple printed paper
scented with the toxins
and addictive taste of the ditto copy machine,
clicking each paper that steals my time.
The headiness of the scent linger, coating my sinuses as I breathe it into my lungs.
Carl T.Johnson is both a name and a place.
Did you know?
Breathe, I have as much time as there is time.
An analog timekeeper is not a referee, is he?
You’ve got this, just use your superpower.
Stand like you are using your superpower.
Stand up.
Stand.
The sharp blade of the pen duals
The silver embossed edging of the paper slices easily through the moonlight room
floating under the writer as she hovers in concentration
Bloody Ass closes her eyes
gathers wisps of knowledge and coherent thought
She has finished within the time frame.