Lines of thought oozing from darkened fingertips, if you move fast enough you can catch one and examine it, study all the reasons and reactions of it, then set it back into the wind where it belongs.  

I have a hard time keeping hold of errant thoughts. They spiral away too fast, tossed into some dark place where I can’t (won’t) look at them.

Sometimes I just don’t want to worry about it. If I were to break down the reasons behind something, examine the thought inside and out, I would be breaking something sealed up and letting loose all sorts of errant things, brittle emotions, hurt, joy. It would be a complete and utter overload of everything that keeps me in my box, and I loathe that idea. I need compartmentalization.

I put my everything in the respective boxes so I can start with an empty floor every day. I let them spill, at night in blessed darkness, and look at the jumbled mess before I fall asleep. They’re tumultuous, horrid things and if I were to get too involved, too m