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"overanalyzed" poems
seeing the same colors, not all about interpretation but perspective overanalyzed ice cream breaks down into glucose overanalyzed puppies break down into proteins only overanalyzed love continues to defy all constraints, eluding mental grasp as easily as an eel in a bathtub, sought by a spoon
0
May 12, 2012
May 12, 2012 at 10:58 PM UTC
You're Thinking Too Hard
skyward certified ledgers keep track of all the godly, gritty details we can’t bring ourselves to believe. just throw some words together and make it count. the dust between our fingernails flavors the few crumbs we have left with the taste of a world that turned it’s back on us. honestly, the real apocalypse is just simply going through the motions. only we’re not as important as i’m making us out to be. sometimes (mostly on nights where the cold infiltrates your bones like an incurable disease and the rain is hitting the roof so hard you think that maybe this time it all will just finally come crashing down) it feels like we were designed for eachother. excuse the sentiment, i know it’s not me. i still picture you in the under-renovation-library thumbing through indexes for facts or truths, or maybe even just a semblance of hope. but that’s just the kind of punch drunk love ******** that keeps me ticking. my smiles come and go with the knowledge that you collect expired medicine and listen to mp3s of seismic waves from beneath the earth’s surface. you’re that special kind of weird that only makes sense in the way you can’t even play a game of monopoly without falling apart. a true rivalry is the greatest form of love. i’m stuck somewhere in between holding on to a grudge. you’re at my throat, i’m in your head. i swear i’m trying to regulate my sleeping patterns again. but the autocorrect on tumblr tried to change “mp3s” to “mumps” so where does your allegiance really stand? melatonin nod. glasses smudged. overedited and overanalyzed. linking words is the slurred speech of typing. or something like that.
0
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 12:55 PM UTC
where is my head?
skyward certified ledgers keep track of all the godly, gritty details we can’t bring ourselves to believe. just throw some words together and make it count. the dust between our fingernails flavors the few crumbs we have left with the taste of a world that turned it’s back on us. honestly, the real apocalypse is just simply going through the motions. only we’re not as important as i’m making us out to be. sometimes (mostly on nights where the cold infiltrates your bones like an incurable disease and the rain is hitting the roof so hard you think that maybe this time it all will just finally come crashing down) it feels like we were designed for eachother. excuse the sentiment, i know it’s not me. i still picture you in the under-renovation-library thumbing through indexes for facts or truths, or maybe even just a semblance of hope. but that’s just the kind of punch drunk love ******** that keeps me ticking. my smiles come and go with the knowledge that you collect expired medicine and listen to mp3s of seismic waves from beneath the earth’s surface. you’re that special kind of weird that only makes sense in the way you can’t even play a game of monopoly without falling apart. a true rivalry is the greatest form of love. i’m stuck somewhere in between holding on to a grudge. you’re at my throat, i’m in your head. i swear i’m trying to regulate my sleeping patterns again. but the autocorrect on tumblr tried to change “mp3s” to “mumps” so where does your allegiance really stand? melatonin nod. glasses smudged. overedited and overanalyzed. linking words is the slurred speech of typing. or something like that.
Continue reading...
1
Do not fall in love with me I will turn every empty second into a overanalyzed thought I will fill the spaces between our heartbeats with lovesongs emitted from my fingertips I will make your words into poetry Recite them over and over until they are tattooed on your skin I will make your lips a sacred temple and send my prayers through kisses Your body will become my garden where i will plant myself roots up Intertwine my vines with yours I will call you the sun Your breath will become my air and I will use you to photosynthesize I will forget that I am not a tree And you are not my forest I will forget that we are only human So do not fall in love with me Unless you are willing To love the details.
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Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC
Do not fall in love with me
sooner or later you'll find out your thoughts are a sin: drugged and lugged through the halls you're living in until you've accepted their embracing concepts and their defacing analysis of your character; you're dead. their pale, fluorescent lights hum in your head and clean out the cobwebs that you've let build up until you've been completely cleansed of your transgressions and until you've figured out life's not about progression. sooner or later you'll find out you're life's been overanalyzed: created for the sake of boredom and then criticized by yourself, your peers, and the people who you never knew; they'd never known, not even yourself, but you guessed. there was no reason to make an estimate, you're blessed through your admission of self, sanctity, and painful denial of the truths they'd tried to make you disbelieve; now you're ready, you're certain, and soon, you'll be freed.
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Nov 16, 2012
Nov 16, 2012 at 12:14 PM UTC
feminism, anarchy, and jesus
The pervasive silence fills my ears, the resonance of it inundates me. I speculate what you’re thinking about, why you are now drifting into nothingness, why we are now on the precipice of nothingness. Maybe I revealed too much, perhaps I shouldn’t have told you that you are what I want, that you will always be what I want...that this will never change. My feelings for you are constant, they never waver. They bubble over into hysteria, into rash thoughts, into frantically telling you these things. Things that make your lips still. My lips are still too. They are meant to kiss you with, my dear. They are meant to break the absolute fragility of this silence, the glass house that we currently inhabit. Words right now would be like stones, carelessly thrown. I am living in the reality I have created in my mind. I do not know what to accept as fact or fantasy, for your silence deafens me, your silence stops me from being able to rationalize my own reality. For I will never know what gears are shifting in your machine of a mind. For I will never know whether this silence is meaningful to you, whether you know the speed at which my spry thoughts are sailing. You could be thinking about how unreal the sun feels on your back after the months of winter we have endured. You could not be thinking about me. Or maybe you want to admit to me that we occupy the same reality, you and I...Or maybe you’re plotting your inescapable escape. This silence will be misconstrued in infinite ways, overanalyzed, thought about incessantly until my mind becomes overcome with you. Until my mind tires of you. Until I force you away from me. Until my feelings are fleeting, and you wonder what I am thinking when I thoughtlessly wander away from you, abandon you...leaving you standing there with your own thoughts, your own mind. Your own reality.
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Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 3:16 AM UTC
Staggering Certainty
The pervasive silence fills my ears, the resonance of it inundates me. I speculate what you’re thinking about, why you are now drifting into nothingness, why we are now on the precipice of nothingness. Maybe I revealed too much, perhaps I shouldn’t have told you that you are what I want, that you will always be what I want...that this will never change. My feelings for you are constant, they never waver. They bubble over into hysteria, into rash thoughts, into frantically telling you these things. Things that make your lips still. My lips are still too. They are meant to kiss you with, my dear. They are meant to break the absolute fragility of this silence, the glass house that we currently inhabit. Words right now would be like stones, carelessly thrown. I am living in the reality I have created in my mind. I do not know what to accept as fact or fantasy, for your silence deafens me, your silence stops me from being able to rationalize my own reality. For I will never know what gears are shifting in your machine of a mind. For I will never know whether this silence is meaningful to you, whether you know the speed at which my spry thoughts are sailing. You could be thinking about how unreal the sun feels on your back after the months of winter we have endured. You could not be thinking about me. Or maybe you want to admit to me that we occupy the same reality, you and I...Or maybe you’re plotting your inescapable escape. This silence will be misconstrued in infinite ways, overanalyzed, thought about incessantly until my mind becomes overcome with you. Until my mind tires of you. Until I force you away from me. Until my feelings are fleeting, and you wonder what I am thinking when I thoughtlessly wander away from you, abandon you...leaving you standing there with your own thoughts, your own mind. Your own reality.
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1
No poems care to comfort me No words are willing to clear my head No thoughts come flowing from my pen No dreams will deign to share my bed I used to sleep with company To doze with dainty desires But now it seems my mind rejects Those floating, smiling sires Instead my head’s been filled with fluff With engineered tomfoolery No longer can I find my thoughts Amidst this heavy schoolery My florid fancies and swooning sighs Have decomposed under scrutiny And inspiration has been so choked That is has no will for mutiny I’ve calculated, demonstrated Extrapolated and oxidized So now I’ve found that feelings too Have fallen overanalyzed It feels surreal, to sit with you While my mind sits far away The distance slows my synapses And causes heart delay Thoughts, I’ve found, have been rewired Connected where they shouldn’t be So silly things cause tears to spring And trivial words to bother me I wish my poems would return To put my mind where it belongs To weave my dreams so I might sleep To erase for you my careless wrongs I wish my words would scamper back And put my tangled thoughts to rights My feelings, too, so I might breathe And finally make peace with restless nights
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Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 6:35 PM UTC
Tangled Thoughts and Silly Things
Rambunctious thoughts, undeserving of birth, Blotted onto the screen, Uncontrollably checking scarce notifications, He is not worth my impatient routine. Will not let you implant in my head Totally broken-up yet well-meant perspectives, I wrote a letter but lacked the courage To read with proper affective. All I need is opportunity, Inside me feelings brew and fester, Mind is slowly poisoned, I felt obsession pester. Find reasons in overanalyzed words, Left with echoes of the past, Wolves begin to howl regretfully, Our feral emotions somehow amassed.
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Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 5:31 PM UTC
Rambunctious Thoughts
So easily your secrets slipped through you perfectly crooked smile And as I sat there in silence, I overanalyzed your body language that seemed to be so endless From yells that ate through me like a rabid dog with an afternoon delight, To tears that that cut me open like my morning razor bite. I was so careful not to frighten you, never wanting you to hesitate with a comment or explanation. And like a slowly, built up, disastrous tornado you unfolded with a power too strong for me to ever grasp. You will never understand silly boy, that you and I are just part of a cycle. We are pieces of the puzzle that just haven’t been attempted to fit together, Well… We have But I just don’t seem to have smooth enough edges. It’s these dam walls that live in my head, they have come out to play and surround me every single day. You don’t see these walls, no, you’ve dug under them. You’re like an insect now, in my skin. Never able to get rid of… And always reminding me I’m never alone. But, You will be her butterfly. Gliding through her life so naturally. Never having to dig, or poke, or pinch. Loving her will be so natural. And as for me, My insect you will forever be.
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Feb 17, 2011
Feb 17, 2011 at 2:36 PM UTC
My Insect
1. “Come on, get up.” There are days when I do not leave my bed. It is not taking a stand, not a hipster statement, it is exhaustion. I’ve spent the night dancing with dreams of ending my survival. Surviving the night was a fight in itself, I am not ready to do battle with my demons all day. 2. “Don’t call me after nine.” I won’t call you. I won’t call you when I have a gun pressed to my chest. I will keep my phone in my hand with your number typed in it at 2 am but I will never call, no matter how bad things get. I will tell myself that it is not a big enough problem to bother you with. 3. “Stop apologizing” Each move I make is overanalyzed like I am playing a game of chess. I am afraid every carefully planned move will end a friendship, end my life. I do not want to leave this world suffocated in regrets, and I am sorry if my saying sorry is too inconvenient for you. To me, an apology is one less tie keeping me here. 4. “You’re life cannot be that bad” Yes, the grass may be greener on my side of the fence but last time I checked life wasn’t a competition on whose existence was plagued with the most tragedies. Tell me what the point system is for each disaster life has thrown at me, I will turn each list in at the end of the month. Tell me where I stand. 5. “No one cares about your problems” You’re right. I’m sorry. 6. “People won’t want to be around you if you aren’t happy.” I didn’t realize my life was a play I had to memorize the lines for. I will get right on that. 7. “Pretend” I will put on my best mask. I will change my inflection. Not even my best friend will know when I am hurting. 8. “Happiness is a choice.” I can choose to smile even as my world collapses around me, but even if I were frowning the context wouldn’t change. I am still destined to fall in the rubble. 9. “It’ll be okay” Though this may seem like a comforting proclamation I don’t exactly remember the last day I was “okay.” Okay seems like another label slapped on the same **** 10. “Just do it then” Fine.
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Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 1:15 AM UTC
What Not To Say To Someone Who Is Depressed
1. “Come on, get up.” There are days when I do not leave my bed. It is not taking a stand, not a hipster statement, it is exhaustion. I’ve spent the night dancing with dreams of ending my survival. Surviving the night was a fight in itself, I am not ready to do battle with my demons all day. 2. “Don’t call me after nine.” I won’t call you. I won’t call you when I have a gun pressed to my chest. I will keep my phone in my hand with your number typed in it at 2 am but I will never call, no matter how bad things get. I will tell myself that it is not a big enough problem to bother you with. 3. “Stop apologizing” Each move I make is overanalyzed like I am playing a game of chess. I am afraid every carefully planned move will end a friendship, end my life. I do not want to leave this world suffocated in regrets, and I am sorry if my saying sorry is too inconvenient for you. To me, an apology is one less tie keeping me here. 4. “You’re life cannot be that bad” Yes, the grass may be greener on my side of the fence but last time I checked life wasn’t a competition on whose existence was plagued with the most tragedies. Tell me what the point system is for each disaster life has thrown at me, I will turn each list in at the end of the month. Tell me where I stand. 5. “No one cares about your problems” You’re right. I’m sorry. 6. “People won’t want to be around you if you aren’t happy.” I didn’t realize my life was a play I had to memorize the lines for. I will get right on that. 7. “Pretend” I will put on my best mask. I will change my inflection. Not even my best friend will know when I am hurting. 8. “Happiness is a choice.” I can choose to smile even as my world collapses around me, but even if I were frowning the context wouldn’t change. I am still destined to fall in the rubble. 9. “It’ll be okay” Though this may seem like a comforting proclamation I don’t exactly remember the last day I was “okay.” Okay seems like another label slapped on the same **** 10. “Just do it then” Fine.
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10
they read between the lines, but they'll never understand what goes on beneath the ink. they won't see how every word i write somehow transfigures itself into the letters of your name. it reminds me of how you used your lips to trace the pattern of your initials on my skin and how you were always so afraid of letting go of the past. they'll overthink this as if it's a metaphor for something of a deeper meaning, but i've never truly understood it myself. i'm still trying to comprehend why you left without any warning or why you threw me away as swiftly as you picked me up, but i'm beginning to think there is no underlying message.
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Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
overanalyzed poet
adore galore a bounty of beauty bounces blissfully about fields of budding wandering wonders wistful waking dreams are the places to be, y'see... imagine being free - imagine being free... tree climbing is much more than a past time activity, it is a livelihood it isn't 'what if I should?' it's all good it's all good bent bright distortions of self parodies are overanalyzed and indistinguishable from nonfiction, a sarcasm fostered past the point of pointlessness silly ironic discrepancies spiral inward to vast void fluidity tie a knot and listen to it melt under the microscope sizzle sun ray beam of light sends me sniffing around in surround sound you're a stinky hologram come find me singin' whew! I love yew I love yew!
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Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 10:23 AM UTC
ouwouveyew
Every interaction I have plays on repeat in my head I can’t stop it It just loops I think about what I said And what they said Until it’s so overanalyzed That no meaning can be drawn from it
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Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 11:01 PM UTC
Loop
His emerald eyes, hypnotized, overanalyzed, told the boldest lies, loud as a lion’s cry, watching chivalry die, still offering attempts, tries, to stay alive, the groans and sighs, over severed ties, said otherwise, only overdramatized, and swiftly capsized, in passtime highs, so it’s always, “See you later”, never goodbye.
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Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 6:10 PM UTC
Lasterday
Listen to me Hear the echo of a whispery voice The resonating of a breathless rasp The song strangled and overanalyzed to death Listen to the stillness and coldness of my slow-moving blood The souls I trapped, The one I lack, The shadows of their shaking vocal chords Pleading for release An entreaty long ignored The crying, yowling, screeching, wailing, begging of man Lost under the reverberating vibrations of eleven bells
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Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 9:01 AM UTC
In The Underground
the familiar feeling of bile rising from the pits of my stomach all the way up up up now at the bottom of my throat -- i am basically gargling it now some thoughts and fears never leave my mind needlessly conjuring up paranoid scenarios repeatedly my imagination never failing me that familiar choking feeling closing my air passage and hands shaking inhaling and exhaling deeply a panic attack overtaking me black spots on my vision now i try to forget the caricatures drawn in my imagination heart still racing, flecks on the sides of my eyes, throat feeling torn that familiar feeling of helplessness solitude, loneliness, sadness, righteous fury, despair, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone -- no one around my walls are whispering, my memories are ripped apart every relationship, conversation overanalyzed, brought to the forefront of my mind's eye and every worst-case brought up and the walls that once seemed sturdy enough to hold out against the world in my isolation don't feel thick away anymore my dreams, miles away, seem like the worthless struggles of a coward who can only run away, helpless clueless child in some adult body has not read the book everyone in the room already read-  left without pretense and a mask cannot read the cues, hardly knows when to move on and no good at drawing lines or forgetting my heart is pounding, numbness falls over-- everyone leave, leave, leave, leave, leave
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Dec 29, 2020
Dec 29, 2020 at 6:08 AM UTC
social anxiety
play me like a piano so I could love you like my favorite song synthesize a melody for me while I crystalize my memory sorry I overanalyzed this thought we might summarize the glamourized masks we put on.
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Sep 7, 2024
Sep 7, 2024 at 6:07 PM UTC
Instrumental Harmony