Laurinda Johnson


I stared at an image of your faded innocence.
Red cups and silver blue cans litter a table.
The very prototype of stupidity.
Your clothes are baggy and dismal grey, worn and stained.
Your mouth half open like a drunken fool child.
Ball in hand, ready to throw, eyes vacant of thought.
You’ve been trained. Like so many others.
How many have you slept with, intoxicated?
How many have you loved? All but none?

You aren’t a student of education.
You’re a student of experimentation.

You stumble like the rest of them, beauty numb,
Head lolling, eyes closing, blind, deaf, mute, and dumb.
You fall over and over and vomit. Eat it,
the sidewalk moving closer, blood dripping faster.
Licking your wounds, of morning headaches and runs.
Disgusting, torn, broken and dumb. You lie alone.
Your “friends” wake you with text messages at noon.
“Crazy night”, “Don’t remember a thing” might as well
Have been dreaming or asleep or dead.
Life flows by like alcohol in veins, absorbed by
nothing but pissed away. How sad that youth should
be so wasted.

Laurinda is a junior English major. She says, “I like playing video games, writing pretty much anything, listening to dubstep, and talking to my cats.  I am a member of Sigma Tau Delta, Rough Draft, and Gaming 101. I also tutor writing at the OSU at Newark’s Writer’s Studio. I hope you enjoy my work.”