Thoughts

I think too hard, sometimes.

Leaving myself with too many words

and never enough space.

Things cram up every nook and cranny,

expanding each time they go round again.

Each time I contradict myself again,

a new thought pops up,

multiplying and dividing

like the new cells they resemble.

I think they are reused, recycled,

ultimately layered upon each time.

But maybe their new, each time we think them;

maybe both, maybe neither.

But all I know is that I know too much

For my own good sometimes.