I think lots of thoughts in my mind
And build them up
And grow them
Until they are
Stories
Opinions
Theories
And more
But they stay there
Unsorted
Tangled
Like what happens to
Cords
Wire coat hangers
Bra straps
(I’m looking at you, Maroon.)
And when I try to write
Or speak
My words come out all wrong
For my thoughts are
Tangled
Unsorted
And so, I am unproductive
And remain mostly silent