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.

Overthinking.
I'm dwelling
on things that need not
more than five –
no, two
seconds.
Dismissed.

Spinning, looping
Repeating.
So unnecessarily lingering.
My mind is a bubble,
with a delicate membrane between my world
and sanity,
that houses liquid danger
Evaporated and pressing
outward against the walls
I constructed to keep others out,
and that instead poison me
with the toxic gas of these
Thoughts.

some nights you will feel
like there are a thousand galaxies
exploding in every inch of you
and you are burning too bright
to ever be looked at directly,
and some nights you will feel
impossibly small, like your
whole body could slip through
the spaced between atoms and
never reappear in this world again,
and some nights you will feel
like a paper doll, carefully crafted
and easily blown away, fragile,
too delicate to ever be touched,
and some nights you will feel
like each cell in your body is
made of the strength that holds
the whole planet together,
and that is okay because you are
made of stardust and miniscule
atoms and breakable bones
and the building blocks of
everything in the universe,
and you are too alive to never
feel anything more than human

this is the last time
i will not write about you
anymore good bye

Falling asleep has never been easy for me.
I overthink.
I toss
And I turn.

Most nights,
I wake up in a panic
at 2 a.m.
Sweating.

But not last night.

I fell asleep in your arms.
Nothing to worry about.
I was safe
And secure.

Last night,
I slept until the sun
was in the middle of the sky.
And so did you.

Look at it yourself
Try Lip syncing again
Like a deep dark paraphrase
Making up words
To get yourself higher
Or maybe lower
I don't know
I'm not a judge
Just a scrap
scrap of thought

when he doesn't remember
when he doesn't text or call
when he doesn't think of me
when he doesn't think at all

when he doesn't miss me
when he doesn't let me know
when he doesn't say how he feels
I fear he's letting go