
Those rattling words that go around my head
Each time counting to get rid of the thoughts
Those that consume and conquer
A pale comparison to a helpful memoir
Of tales to tell just because
Not made to tell just for other people’s need
Of my need perhaps
Or perhaps their need
That thoughts have a mind of their own
Scary and dark
Twisted in the way they pretend to only be words
Inadequate objects that have labels
My words that mean something to me
Only I can tell the world their meaning
But in the end seem to own me




I looked in to my doctor’s eyes






