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.