tonight's poem:

Potential

a sharp cry
hits the air
like a wounded animal

or at least,
I think I hear it

perhaps it is only my mind
stretched thin
cerebral cortex
occipital lobe
and cerebellum

flattened under the weight
of everything I have ever been
and everything I have left to do.

must my brain always be either
humming with electric potential
or wrapped in heavy cotton?

such a promising young person
reduced to this?

I have something to say.
So say it.

I am a prodigy
and a failure
all at the same time

Schrödinger’s got nothing on me.

driven by circumstance
to set the bar so high
and sometimes when I'm soaring
I clear it with ease
and sometimes my feet
are encased in cement
and I crash face first
knocking out
any
stars
from my
eyes.