I’m fully afraid of my thought patterns,
I consistently construct labyrinths of restitution.
I never rest complexity
until the pointillism of details
I can assure you
it’s not over-thinking,
it’s called being preemptively proactive.
The only issues are
the impossible variables and
this annoying inability to predict the future.
I’m bridled by uncertainties
and know it.
I dance on the strings of all my concerns
’til my tongue hangs limb
and my feet sway in the breeze.
I think myself into paralysis.
I play games of perpetual check
with a full chess board.
I am gradually turning to granite
and rationalizing myself to death and —
I’m so fucking done being afraid to live!
I’m so done…
All I know is I don’t know that much.
I find myself thinking more of change,
wondering whether being me is a concept truly free.
Or just swaddled in bubble-wrap.
To change may not be all that scary,
but I’m terrified of the maybe’s
and what I may be.
I can’t ever recognize a mistake until after I’ve fallen,
but to have never jumped is forever the truest mistake.
So, I’m taking a stand,
possibly laying new foundations in sand,
and proclaiming —
Caution can suck my heart’s dick!
The past can take it up the ass!
And the future,
you elusive rainbow unicorn,
I’ll see you when I get there.