starving

there’s a word that comes to mind

when i think of the things i must do

and the things i haven’t done.

it lingers in my skull.

it tastes of panic.

reminds me of loss before it happens.

i can’t tell if it makes me move

faster or if it stymies me.

is the fear of transience the end of me

before i can even begin?

there is a hunger to do more

be more;

and yet, i’m frozen in place.

i’ve gone and chained myself

to the walls of the cave.

and i’m afraid that this is all i’ll ever be.

that i’ll have seen the source of shadows

i’ll have seen the light of day.

but in the end, i’ll have to look away.

because where i end and greatness begins

is volatile in its intensity

and maybe it will be the last thing i ever see.