Alone with my thoughts far longer than the doctor prescribed. Ideas such as these are lethal in prolonged dosages, and such damage is irreversible. The scars left with withstand all application of cocoa butter and will be ghastly and unexpected. Any who try to get close enough to soothe them will be repulsed; repelled because something so seemingly beautiful is in possession of something so permanent and heavy. This is a discaimer for all who are left with their thoughts. Any distraction will not silence the incessant rambling of cranial voices. Don't think like that Babygirl, better yet, don't think at all.
So afraid of the dark, yet eyes are still closed when asleep. Wobbling atop sky-bound heels, yet deathly afraid of heights. Enigmas of paradox. Long nails, adequately faux expectations. Stop taking in circles and I'll quit believing in squares. Don't give all your cookies away because not everyone is equipped to handle the toothaches. Now that I think about it, you're my heartbeat. Not my heart, but my beat. Don't think about it too much, and don't leave me alone, and don't forget my prescription.