i'm reading tea leaves again.
this comes along with counting tiles, i suppose.
conversations carried out to their inevitable conclusion
inside my mind always have the worst endings.

when did i become so insecure?

i'm wondering at this point about the wisdom of wearing
hearts on sleeves and all that jazz. it would be
better for my mental health to be more stone-like.

i am a rock, i am a rock, i am a rock.

too late, i realize,
i am rock candy,
and you have me in hot water.