Things I write when I'm falling asleep in class

Sociology of War and Peace:
-Dear giver, my hands are bound to places I have forgotten the paths to.
-Hush child, you're pretty obnoxious.
-You just can't be her silverware. You can't be her carpet or her fish bowl or her fingerprint. It's not because you're not beautiful or gracious or amber enough, because you are, are you're more lifted than anyone she knows. But you can't be her table top because she is no one to be had. So stop closing your eyes and pick up your feet.
-It's like I've known your fingerprint all along.
-Hold your horses, because these are the times when we have nothing to spare.
-For once, I'm too tall to enjoy the surprise.
-Lose the shoes because there's no need to run. I'm seeking redemption, and you've solved it all.
-Carelessness out in the open. I still cannot be your apology.
-If you forgot how to speak, I'd let you read my smile.

Social Statistics:
-Your hips were not meant to bend like you have asked them to do. No wonder it's your mind against your body. Maybe try singing instead of yelling. I know your natural rhythm, but you just can't seem to keep the beat in your paradoxical mind. I'll buy you a metronome for your birthday if you're nice.
-Sometimes, I wonder if I touched the window on those below freezing days, would your window get foggy?
-You've got the cure, but, baby, I haven't even been diagnosed yet.
-I wish I could smile like a division symbol.
-There better be room left for this made up laughter.
-If you're so equal, why are you always tripping over your own shoe laces?
-You're full of red and green, you little gift giver you. Too bad she did your tattoos in black and white, though.
-It was my hand. Sorry I shocked you, but I was pretty shocked myself.
-Yea, I know I look like a movie star, but I just wish there was some genre other than horror.
-It's almost as if my hands began to crack even before I met you.

-Attention crisis= you've held my hand for too long. Not that I'm complaining, I just don't think this is an appropriate relationship for co-workers.
-If you could have grown up to be anything, you probably would have been a boat. And you would have been a good one too, since you always avoid stormy seas. You would have definitely been seized by pirates, though. It would have been too much of a shame to let you go.
-It never grew very big, that plant at the end of my bed. It did mature, though, and become a fighter for liberal ideals. I just really wish it would keep the rallies a bit quieter. You'd be surprised how loud a jungle in your room can be.
-Yes, I'm lethargic, but, honey, you're dead.
-Like a vetern on the ice, waltzing past children on new legs and people with no direction, it glides across the board. A love affair with the dry erase marker. Hating what it has to say but pleading for it to speak. Because your graces come so naturally, it's easy to slip up. Watch your aiming now. We wouldn't want you to kill your score.