Spaghetti Head
Everything is in such a tangle
it’s impossible to explore
where the threads lead,
impossible to work out
these coloured threads of a life
intertwined like spaghetti
scrambled in my head.
The outside is much simpler
much more solid
more concrete
building blocks
of comprehension.
But even so
I can’t make sense of them
can’t manage to put the shapes in order
and as soon as they enter my head
they are shredded into looping noodles,
beautiful hoops and tangles.
And beauty seems more important
than compressibility.
Perhaps I’ll grow
to understand them in time
those colourful threads of life
intertwined round and round
like spaghetti inside my head.


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