How to measure risk and reward.
I tightrope decisions before tilt-spilling
towards extreme oblivions
or careen like a pendulum
attempting to claim all of subspace
at once.
I keep monkeybarring
through a jungle gym of thoughts,
and hope to freeze frame storm fronts
in poems. I cannot hold onto words,
but words can hold onto me.
I wonder what parts of my brain
light up when I think of you,
when my heart pounds
its radioactive hammer,
when I'm tallying up the costs
and benefits in swatches
of PET scan colors.
It's neuroeconomics.
I have built you an altar
of amygdalan pros and cons.
But how can I chance the gamble,
when I am still feeling the burn
of soft sunlight, my sternum
still stings with syllables, serotonin
sensitivities still sleep in my chest.
I hold my hurt like a promise.
---
apr 27, 2017
inspired by my neuroscience textbook because i am a nerd!!!
YOU ARE READING
watterson
Poetryan experimental attempt to write a poem a day for the month of april spoiler alert: i did it
