my thoughts are quicksilver.
they race around my brain in a
frenzy of disparate ideas and impulses
that fatigue me.
my efforts to explain are futile,
leaving listeners at best confused,
at worst, certain i’m disturbed,
but how do you sing the colour purple?
my randomly chaotic and nonlinear internal world
is balanced by my external almost-compulsiveness.
the order and routine of my daily life
is regimented down to the smallest detail,
not because of an arbitrary whim
or an affection for organization,
but as an absolute requirement
that counterbalances the clutter and noise from within.