There he is, the host cell
Sitting with his mindless b brutes
Textbooks open to a random page, forgotten
His pure white socks stretched beyond his ankle
Obscured by his vibrant, untainted new Nikes
His minions’ shoes similar, but vary slightly

His legs encased by blue fabric, framing them
Blue lanyard attached to a hoard of useless show keys
Presenting his importance, nose above the others
A slick hoodie covers his chest promoting a nameless team
A watch adorns his wrist, drawing attention to its handsomeness
His ensemble both eye-catching and intimidating
His face putting Michelangelo to shame

And he knows it

You can see the smugness in the way he walks
Strutting down the hallway as if he were in his own castle
Nose elevated to heights unattainable by peasants
Beautiful eyes of sky blue stare down, daring you to interfere

A gift from god to us, he thinks
Hand sculpted with perfection, in his eyes

An a**hole in the flesh

As the teacher lectures, a ballad of boring biology
Students sit whispering, attention elsewhere
Wads of paper soar through the air, never hitting their mark
Ear buds hidden behind cascades of hair
A group of morons laughing

Sex is very funny

Why should an ancient man in his late fifties
Balding in the back with a large pot belly
Why should this man, behind his time
Be lecturing us on sex

What does he know about sex
Sex is what we think of when girls pass by
Absorbed in false modesty, fishing for attention
Sex is what happens at parties for wannabes
Trying to be the perfect couple, looking down on anyone below an 8
Sex is what happens with a single sided first love
The false angel stealing the innocence too freely given

Sex is not what happens between a man and a woman
Whose hearts were trusted gifts, accepted by one another
Who love each other enough to grow old and die in each others arms
Who love each other enough to bear a child
Sex is for people like us

As I sit across the classroom, silently gazing
I peer over at them, acting like barbarians
Snickering at ‘intercourse’ and ‘orgasm’
I pity them

My eyes fill with sympathy and sadness
Sadness that they will never know the love of a parent
Always moving from girl to girl, never settling
Missing that perfect girl, breaking her heart

You can feel my eyes on you, others too
You bestow your gaze on me allowing me the honor
Your mouth is still formed in the Cheshire grin, showing off teeth
Your attention no longer on the outdated teacher, but on me

Lil’ old’ me

As we level our gazes yours fill with confusion
Why and I not shying away, a blush tinting my cheeks
Why am I staring back, the fire in my eyes burning into your blue oceans
Why are my eyes full of, not adornment, but pity

Your smile fades away, sound melting away
Your perfection is a curse thrust upon you
But you granted it access and allowed it to corrupt and consume you
My imperfection a favor bestowed upon me
Opening my eyes, Allowing me to see the world for what it is

The bell rings, ending our silent exchange
Severing the invisible line connecting us, I gather my things
I feel your gaze even as I leave
A smile solidifies on my face

Both of us aware of who has the upper hand