She said I think too much
So I googled “racing thoughts”
((I’ve never so adored you//I’m twisting allegories now)) and what if my visual aesthetic is delicately adorned pink lace with twinkling lights over nooks for reading books where men get their throats slashed open by mythological monsters ((I’m chasing roller coasters//I’ve got to have you closer now)) and is that too gendered of thinking in my head? When is forgiveness the better route over education because of context and the fact that he’s my dad and I don’t want to lose my family? ((endless romantic stories//you never could control me)) but I’m going to pace around a strange person’s house and not know what to do with myself, I can’t prepare for what I want and what’s the best way to be productive in the way I want, God I just want to sleep ((fixation or psychosis//devoted to neurosis now)) and the phone’s going to ring at any minute and set me off to racing around my apartment to disrupt both me and her and I still don’t know what I want to eat this week, my head hurts behind my left eye which I think holds the creative side of my brain ((well I never really thought that you’d come tonight//while the crowd hangs heavy on either side//give me one last kiss while we’re far too young to die)) and I can’t write and I can’t speak it’s like my head is blocked up while my heart’s locked up by a fantasy somewhere between highways and oceans that I can’t leave town to chase after and I just want to figure it out because I just want to be happy and I just want to feel the way I imagine I felt standing on top of that trail overlooking the city but that wasn’t real either ((we’re far too young to die)).












