Thoughts and Rhymes
Today is just one of those days where everything seems a bit off since the moment I got out of bed.
Mind spinning
Tables turning
Anxious, worried
Lessons learning
Fielding feelings
Feelings spurning
Building bridges
With bridges burning
I go through these weird fucked up cycles, and I definitely overthink pretty much everything.
Anything that doesn't make immediate sense to me gets played out in my mind a million different times as my conscious and subconscious try to come to some type of agreement on the subject.
Wheels grinding
Heartbeat pyning
On my own thoughts
I am dining
Eat it up
Without whining
Type some shit
Within my rhyming
None of it really bothers me much anymore. Knowing as I do that I possess a spiral mind. Like a staircase winding into the nether. Spinning itself through patches of white, gray, and black. Only to begin again anew whenever I think I'm done with it. These little pesky itches that sit themselves at almost unreachable spots inside my soul.
Mirror images
Muted faces
Tender moments
Hidden places
Chalk outlines
Cancelled graces
Pictures drawn
Using tracers.
I wake up too early in the morning on Saturdays. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. Hardly anyone to talk to. I suppose I should be used to it after all these years, but I'm obviously not. So I just go about the business of combing through the irrational. The obscure. The weirdness. Contemplative recollections trying to attach themselves to my day. Worming and working their way in through the many fissures and cracks that I've yet to heal and patch properly.
Sunshine rising
Walk the woods
Find the river
Stare and stood
Use the methods
Did no good
On the stairwell
Under the hood
I've always been much better with the problems I can punch in the face. Though over the last few years, I've been limiting my access to them. Distancing myself from all the many faces so deserving of my resolutions. I've also been hard at work trying to rewire the way I think about things. But sometimes certain habits are hard to kill, or control. It's like trying to drown yourself without weights. Something inside just takes over and impulse wins out.
Waves and tides
Upon the sands
Tired body
Broken hands
Ache and pain
Cast demand
Knock me down
Again I'll stand
It's a constant give and take to be sure. As I wrestle innocuous thoughts into submission. Forcing myself to cast off the chains my own mind would forge for me. Winding my way along the spiraling stairwell of my mind. Just searching for the landing.
Peace
~The Snowdog
Mind spinning
Tables turning
Anxious, worried
Lessons learning
Fielding feelings
Feelings spurning
Building bridges
With bridges burning
I go through these weird fucked up cycles, and I definitely overthink pretty much everything.
Anything that doesn't make immediate sense to me gets played out in my mind a million different times as my conscious and subconscious try to come to some type of agreement on the subject.
Wheels grinding
Heartbeat pyning
On my own thoughts
I am dining
Eat it up
Without whining
Type some shit
Within my rhyming
None of it really bothers me much anymore. Knowing as I do that I possess a spiral mind. Like a staircase winding into the nether. Spinning itself through patches of white, gray, and black. Only to begin again anew whenever I think I'm done with it. These little pesky itches that sit themselves at almost unreachable spots inside my soul.
Mirror images
Muted faces
Tender moments
Hidden places
Chalk outlines
Cancelled graces
Pictures drawn
Using tracers.
I wake up too early in the morning on Saturdays. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. Hardly anyone to talk to. I suppose I should be used to it after all these years, but I'm obviously not. So I just go about the business of combing through the irrational. The obscure. The weirdness. Contemplative recollections trying to attach themselves to my day. Worming and working their way in through the many fissures and cracks that I've yet to heal and patch properly.
Sunshine rising
Walk the woods
Find the river
Stare and stood
Use the methods
Did no good
On the stairwell
Under the hood
I've always been much better with the problems I can punch in the face. Though over the last few years, I've been limiting my access to them. Distancing myself from all the many faces so deserving of my resolutions. I've also been hard at work trying to rewire the way I think about things. But sometimes certain habits are hard to kill, or control. It's like trying to drown yourself without weights. Something inside just takes over and impulse wins out.
Waves and tides
Upon the sands
Tired body
Broken hands
Ache and pain
Cast demand
Knock me down
Again I'll stand
It's a constant give and take to be sure. As I wrestle innocuous thoughts into submission. Forcing myself to cast off the chains my own mind would forge for me. Winding my way along the spiraling stairwell of my mind. Just searching for the landing.
Peace
~The Snowdog
