Why can’t I run out of things to say? The never ending rhymes of a live action play.
A thought comes to mind, I shove it back in, then that triggers more, a brain frenzy spin.
I hear quite a lot about compartmentalizing thoughts.
Arrange a place in your brain for your triggers to stay. File them in line and then store them away.
Listen though, that takes mental self-discipline, my conscience is strong and to me she ain’t listenin’.
She comes and she goes
Bouncing shoulder to shoulder. She feeds off my fears, for she’s the beholder.
She can access a space so deep in my head, she’s my own search engine to my personal dark web.
So how do I find her, arrange her, confine her? How do I get to her center, when I can barely define her!
If you can imagine it, inside my head,
this little Anchor me, at my News desk. Reading the words scrolling across the screen,
thinking to herself, this girl needs to scream.
But jibberin’ and jabberin’, her mouth doesn’t stop, winning every argument, and shutting people up.
She’s good and she’s brave but if I let her, she’s vicious.
So what if I imagined her in another type of way.. not a rambling News Anchor, but my therapist per se. Instead of word scrambling she creates the clean slate. She could be the light bulb to my darkened pathway. She’s happily and gracefully arranging in there, so to organize my thoughts, she files them with care.
We’ll steer this ship together, in this mind-awakening raging sea. She’ll hold her own in these waves though they’re deep. Because she’s also behind the good things I do, and if i’d just let her, she’d be my drive too.
See it’s a battle back and forth, literally right behind my eyes, and if it’s not my friend, this brain could be my own demise.
Feature photos from google.