Cross-Eye
Overthinking feels
like
eyes turned inward
out of sight, out of socket
Into mind
and into hallways
made for cartoon cat chases
or at least
some sort of cerebral Scooby-Doo
Each observatory orb
just eluding the other
Out one door
into another
Left sphere, Right sphere
Over there
Over here
Each searching for its partner
to again be a pair
and see clearly the balance
between primal expression
and reasoned identity
To take the twisted synapse spaghetti
and straighten out the cat’s favorite tangle
Get it together, buddy.
You sear into a stranger
as they make the same mistake
you would
were you in their
captain’s chair
Goggle’s on backwards
prayers to the air
But the clouds drowned the sound
overthinking can’t wait
for your eyes to return
so for once you see straight
.
.
.
