a sort of babbling.

subject: rant
style: rant
source: 23 minutes. 

[This honestly was not supposed to be a poem. I intended it to be only a rant by which to release my bottled-up emotions. Naturally, though, I found myself instinctively trying to speak poetically, so as it went on it sort of turned into something pretty. Hence I've titled it and added it to my list of poems as an afterthought.]

"spaces"

life falls to pieces.
i have too much
too much to worry about
god.

the trouble is
i have these ideas in my mind
of how i want things to work out
and i just can't tolerate the thought
that they will happen any other way.
it's constricting me

fuck.
i hate social anxiety
i hate not
i hate
i want to just live

so much stress
too much stress

i'd rather explode

my head aches
from all the nosnesne

i don't think
i'm cut out for

i
life ?

ask her out
ask her out
ask her out

i know.
i should.
i want
to

I AM NOT CUT OUT

my nightmares
consist
of purple leeches
seeping in to

scare me
scared me

maybe
it will work
out
no.

yes ?

maybe.

i'm scared
of rejection
but that's not the worst part
i'm scared of what will happen
if i am not rejected
this is what social anxiety
can do.
i am scared for my life
to do anything with her.
so why is that my goal ?

i like her.
i know
do
but do
i like myself ?

m
reduced to a sort of babbling
to make sense
of my own head

mind *

don't
me

worse yet
my head hurts
because it splits itself
into pieces
on a nano basis.

this is called ocd

or so i think

left right left right left right left right ad infinitum
emphasize

infinitum

so music calms me
momentarily
but it doesn't do my work
though

work. damn it
as if i need one more
thing to

reduced to biting
biting my lips again
great
just great
just

let mek now whe nth esp ace sse ttl ewi lly ou?

it would mean
a lot of me

yes.

it is time
is
it is not yet time

i really just want to

talk

to you

(is that) such a
(is that) so hard
(is that) too much

to ask
is to coqneur