Racing Thoughts

Being convinced these machinations in my head are good legitimate ideas. That might be the worst part. Being unable ultimately to trust yourself down to your core. Convinced of two completely opposing ideas at once, mind switching like the clock, tik tok. What am I worth? Am I more than my actions, my ideas and ideals? My identity being so warped from what there really is, the thing I give to people, the one they see. I fear I have become made of wood, each morning I stiffen and creak. Every day I await the chopping block. My mind is poisoned by my thoughts, I know not which are friend or foe. Lately they are all I see. “We are all conglomerates. Some of us just feel more one than others.” I want them combed out, detangled, hot grease dripping, a stove eye on high, a hot comb glowering up at me. I want them processed and pulled through, til by some miracle or someone’s mama’s persistence, they resemble something straight.
Just a woman full of quirks, finding my way, sharing my thoughts, poetry, and short stories.

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