Static

[rowens]

Static

The static in my mind is constant,

I'd cross out The, though The adds emphasis to the particular. 


Always a reminder
Of the clarity others feel—

Yes, the or that. Or, simply, Of clarity others . . .



Their ability to listen while I try to conceal
The fact that information goes in one ear
And out the other.

Out one ear and in another . . . ? 
Why?  . . . 
A play of how what you learn goes out, and what you are obsessed with comes right back in. 



I’m always in,
Always out,
Trying to keep my brain from shorting out.

This adds to the last stanza. 
But do you need this stanza at all? At all? 


It’s relentless.

Yes? But what is?

Relentless.




I sit ready to learn;
This time will be different.
Again, I feel my stomach churn
At the realization
That my imagination
Won.

“Get up, Carah. Get shit done.
Your house won’t clean itself.”
It’s A brick wall
Standing in my way,
As if to say, 
“Just wait…
Wait another day.”

The Static in my mind is constant.
Always there,
Pushing away the rest,
Like an unwanted guest
Hijacking my consciousness,
Controlling me.

I try to regain
My stubborn brain,
Grab it with both hands
and wrestle it to the ground,
But I am weak;
My confidence is bleak.

“Just work harder, Carah.
Listen.
Just make it your mission.”
But without conscious volition,
I fade away,

Fade into that place
where fantasy takes up space,
Inspiration takes hold,
Questions unfold,
And creativity is bold.
That addictive daze,
That unconscious haze,
So bright and vividly burning.

Then—
Snap

I’m back, back to the shame,.
The frustration with my brain,
The relentless blame.

“It’s your fault, Carah.
Just focus.”