i had a dream i was late to my maths exam but they made me run upstairs to put my coat in my locker. then i went inside but the year 12s were also having their mocks and i had to sit next to peter du and he was rude to me. (bad poems #7)

God i imagine them like festering pustules / bursting running ulcer like Winston Smith / coming out of the exam all I can think about is / some blitzkrieg, some kamikaze, committed on the / fecund rotund landscape of bumps and snags across my back, Deadpool desert / muscle pain patches layered over and over until the hot searing feeling becomes dull / red boiling wheezing / why do i itch when i integrate / kinematics staccato pen strokes / scratch / imaginary numbers and imaginary pains / scratch / De Moivre applies Fenistil across my shoulders / scratch / God if i die today at least let me pass / scratch / written on my tombstone she made her offer / scratch.