frequency 

i frequently find myself listening to far too many of my own thoughts 

with what haste and frivolity will i worthlessly jot every passing preponderance 

i’m kind of obsessed 

i’m consumed by the creation of new notations i must detect because 

every thought of mine must have a purpose 

i don’t sit and stew for nothing so what have i been cooking? 

dread and angst, fear and hate, 

anxiety and anguish, lust and rage, 

loneliness and love, lethargy and doom

gratefulness and from where do these feeling exude themselves onto me 

my head 

my safe of swell thoughts as long as no one gets in