This is not a poem.
This is me trying to figure something out.
And I’m not getting my fucking period.
My mind is racing, I can’t stop thinking.
Where do you even begin with it all?
I can’t write everything down; it’s happening too fast.
Which gets to be incredibly frustrating. I hate to think of all those fleeting thoughts. How many of them were worth remembering? How many had the answer?
Too many, I think.
What exactly am I trying to say?
What is this structure?
What does it mean? What does it mean? Why did this happen? Why did he say this? Why did she say that?
Why did I step in shit when I should’ve could’ve would’ve missed it?
Why did I meet you when I should’ve could’ve would’ve missed you?
All these seemingly unlikely events, all strung together so perfectly.
Feels like a dream. That must mean something, right?