There’s a rhythm to all this;

A movement.

Relentless pestilence of moses

the gifted and the truant.

We are screaming like electrons,

We are Schrodinger’s god.

Us the unknowable, us the divine

you can’t tell if we’re breathing until you look into our eyes.

What I mean to say: they’re brawling

and it’s gritty, not-pretty,

Smudged mascara and tear-your-hair-out

Bastards of creation, rising generation, 

falling. 

Crowds move over linoleum like hearts move over ribs

but caught between its beats ain’t no way to live

And we shout together

The obvious and beautiful truth:

No reality is certain until it is measured!

This is our measuring, wild and uncouth

We pin the future like a butterfly

We choose bruised knuckles;

watch possibility die.

And we shout over the struggle

The obvious and beautiful truth:

We are god-given and inscrutable youth.