So much to process.
Process, process, process,
Process, process, process,
Process, process, process,
Until sleep switches off my endless conveyor belt of over-analyzation.

Tonight I'll precisely pick apart things that have no business being harnessed
Until perfect rest precludes my process-a-palooza.

**** this brain.
And **** the thoughts that float through it, wispy, adrift.
Aimless, with no hope of reaching the other side, the action side.

I know exactly what's going to happen.
And yet, still, I will repeat this process.

The definition of insanity comes to mind.
Am I insane?
Those who do what they've always done will get what they've always gotten.
So some frustration is coming down the pipeline, undoubtedly.

But here I am.

Keeping myself awake while my little mind powers through minutes and seconds and hours of data
Burning itself out completely
And yet accomplishing nothing.

Moral of the story?
To overthink is to run a car for hours with no one driving it,
To study vigorously and then not take the test,
To hedge your bets,
To run on a treadmill,
To fight an uphill battle,
To enter into a no-win scenario on purpose.

To analyze too much is to work the muscles of your sanity to the point of tearing. **** it, **** it all. This crucible of introspection, I hate it.

It's all thinking, and no doing.
What kind of world would we have built on thought? Deceptive, static and imprisoned thought, in and of itself?

The procession marches on through the early morning hours,
Until sleep rescues me from this malicious rabble of thoughts
I cringe at their noise, I grow weak from the weight of such an immense amount of perception  

My mind shifts and sifts through it all
Until I finally lose consciousness.