I’m drowning in the archives of my mind.
Thoughts are misfiled
I can’t find the labels that contain my soul
piles and piles of doubt
papery whispers misguiding my heart
I’m the archivist of my mind
But I lack the proper training to keep a clean house
The roof is leaking confusion
The floor is breaking away
Sometimes I wonder if I should laminate my brain
make myself pristine
Instead of this crumbling self
But if I wasn’t acidic
I wouldn’t be a burning girl
I’d be just another relic on display
But I feel like I need to be trained in self-care
Because I’m failing
slipping down the cracks
And when you are underfunded in thoughts
And drowning in neurotic post-it notes
There is no way out
Except inward.
