Maile Rapozo, Star Touch. 
Moving forwards,
click click click!
You got it,
the time is now.
Running together, pulling apart.
A flash of distraction:
course and crunchy on my tongue;
Hey, that’s my motivation! Give it back!
I pull your focus from the rack and run,
kicking snow in the feet of your bed–
“that’s what you get, schoolwork,” I scream,
“cold, soggy toes!”
It can’t hear me.
How ever am I to live without my joy?
That is the question.
Dopamine! Milk and sugar in my coffee!
Where has that pesky motivation gone?
Gone indeed.
Bitter.