Everything begins with I,
Impulsivity and Indecisiveness.
These two words go together, my
Impulsivity and Indecisiveness.
They make me say or not be able to,
Impulsivity and Indecisiveness.
They usually come in a pair, the two,
Impulsivity and Indecisiveness.
I know that they will go away,
Impulsivity and Indecisiveness.
But some days they just flood my brain,
Impulsivity and Indecisiveness.

Impulsivity, I am hopelessly in love with you.

Buy the shoes.
Ditch school.

Kiss her.

Drive 30 minutes
for french fries

Kiss him.

Buy 18 pet snails.
Eat the octopus tacos.

In acting class they told me
to follow my impulses.
At home they told me not to.

A blessing and a curse
might land me in a hearse
But I’m living

Today I wrote a letter to someone I love and I’m going to send it

Tomorrow I might stay home and cook pasta,
or maybe I’ll drive to Portland.
Pack only a few T-shirts and my terrifying
overabundance of freedom

Are you proud?

I’ve been told not to be so impulsive.
To think more rationally.
To weigh the consequences.
“You’ll regret it!”

But the greatest regret I’ve ever felt
is having not done anything
about something that is my everything.

I know I’m not an idiot.

I’ve told myself this for years and I’ll stick to it,
but there will never be a day
when my mind defeats my gut.
Sometimes it means I’m

irresponsible.
Unpredictable.
Messy.
Slutty.

“Who are you anyway?”

I have a secret
-I don’t know who I am

And if I’m lucky, I never will.

You, my impulsivity, are to blame and to thank for that.

I will regret this in the morning
but I will do it anyway
my impulsivity often overpowers my conscience
yet I am almost always fully aware
of the decisions I make
and their consequences
I am not exactly mentally stable
but I am sane enough
to know right from wrong
yesterday from today
love from lust
although sometimes I mix them up
I have a tendency to lunge at any pair of arms that open for me
my mind and body often disagree
my body saying yes to eager hands
my mind saying no
constantly looking towards my heart
thinking how stupid one must be
to fall repeatedly
get hurt every single time
and still manage to do the same
over
and over
again
I wonder
how many times I will have to hit the ground
in order to learn to stop falling face first?
I often say things
that should be left unsaid
I often do things
that should not be done
sleep in beds unfamiliar
make believe love to strangers
get to know people who will not remember me tomorrow
I am gone as quickly as the hangover
I can be washed off the tongue
just as quickly as the liquor
I often believe I am capable of inciting change
I kiss temporary lips with permanence
hoping that I can train them to stay
I love temporary people with permanence
hoping that I can train them not to leave
and when they do
I claim to have seen it coming
I am incapable of forgetting
a scrapbook memory of skin and heartbeat
of touch and moments
I know not to look directly into eyes
for they can be blinding
and I still
do it anyway
I know of the risks that shouldn't be taken
well aware of their consequences
and I still
take them anyway
you could say
it is my own fault
for the way that things continue to turn out
but I can make no promise of apology
instead
I will live momentarily
**** up intentionally
love recklessly
fall unguarded
break enough times to learn how to put myself back together
crash into concrete enough times to learn how to shift a crooked smile
into something worth seeing
I have been told that a life lived in fear
is hardly a life lived at all
so I intend to live every second
like it is the last one I will have
I will write each night as it happens
narrate my own stories
and hope they turn out okay
I will regret this in the morning
but I will do it anyway.

the cold of your skin
the warmth of mine
it was in the
opposites
that it all made sense

we stirred
together
to a perfect temperature

my rash impulsivity
your calculated drive
it was in the
opposites
that it all made sense

we became
experts
at spontaneous plans

the blatant boom with which i speak
your subdued familiarity
it was in the
opposites
that it all made sense

we would
harmonize
like singers

like lovers

fuel desperation,
and so are valuable
assets in the game
of spinning chambers.

one ***** is all it takes.

you might not believe
a person still wading
through adolescence
could harbor such
malevolent intent.

one slight is all it takes.

age is barely even
a consideration when
haunted by the desire
for revenge or need
of self-preservation.

one fragile moment is all it takes.

fewer years simply
equate to shallower
perspective, exacerbating
youthful impulsivity.

one bullet is all it takes.

I am terrified of what I may do to myself if I let my guard down.
It's not that I don't want to be happy.
It's that at my core,
I do not trust myself.

Complex PTSD made even more complex by frequent bouts of mild psychosis.
Neurosis.
Impulsivity.
Mood swings.
Suicidal tendencies.
Inconsistent personality.
Writing uncontrollably.
Questionable hygiene.
Obsessive pineapple eating.
Veganism.
Atheism.
Humanism.
And I have a horrible sense of direction.

Wait,
What was the question?

A monolithic sculpture stands upon a hill.
Ornate work of marble marks the artisan’s skill.
Clad as a knight of yore, with stony gaze held high.
Pilgrims travel from miles around to fall under his eye.

Epitome of courage, virtue, and respect
effused upon the villagers traits they should reflect.
Elements gnawed at the stone but failed to corrode
the manifold of lofty aims the knight would bestow.

Dark years beset the kingdom causing disarray-
Tyranny, vanity, and deceit led the people all astray.
Artisan's work above, a shining icon of probity.
A resolute bastion against the world’s impulsivity.

A day will come when the people reach distress;
crying out, they beseech the artisan’s redress,
but long has the craftsman been journeying far away
humbly allowing his handiwork, the message he conveys.

the days you couldn't get out of bed
were the days he was full of birds
in his stomach; fluttering wings and
sharp beaks pulling for validation.

and the hummingbird in your heart never stops going off
when you've trained it this well, because even a bird
can fall in love with its cage
if it's beautiful enough;
stockholm syndrome in its raw disgust.

impulsivity never came naturally
for him, perfection was
his answer to thoughts smelling
like recycled air and suffocation.

but you,
you would rip all the sheets off
and you could always tell when there was something off
when there was something i've lost,
and never knew that it was you
growing around my bones like moss.

or maybe more like poison ivy
by the way you expected so much from me
and i couldn't stop the both of us
from falling off the rollercoaster you
refused to get off of.

so now that i know,
i won't let you become my demise
because a ******* once told me;
"Anticipation is always stronger
than surprise."

There’s something about your pale skin
blanketed with thin hairs that makes
me care to become closer, to massage
your ache, to make you quake with
relief; despite your disbelief
about my interest in you, I really do wish to kiss
your manner and bathe in the
cool vibes you emit.
I want to hit my brain for
silencing my heart, for halting
its beats when my eyes meet
your sweet and enticing
form; It’s hard for me to say
if I’ll feel the same as yesterday
in the future, for fickleness
has been in my nature,
though it is an unattractive trait—
indecision and impulsivity;
Contemplation is a proclivity,
a natural occurring activity that
sends too many signals to my mind
and I waste all of my precious time
deciphering true feelings from
conditioned expectations
However, I cannot deny the tingly
sensation my body rides when I look
into your mind
And I’m quite curious to find
out everything about you while
keeping my own mystery unsolved