broken and spoken for

i am always at the edge of fear, fear of having nothing accomplished at all, a mere dabbler of all things, because so many things fascinates and distract me. i want to learn learn learn everything yet i don’t think i have the right mind to do so. i am not right in the head. i have not a single permanent constitution in my head. certainly this calls for an exaggeration but i must be pushed pushed to edge of wakefulness, to exhaust myself entirely, to wake up with a jolt, to look upon the world with amazement and everything, to weep at every godly encounter, to take everything in, to welcome to embrace every thing. yet at the same time i want to shut myself in, to pick slowly one by one all my scavenging, and pore over them endlessly, jot notes make essays and build something that is comprehensible out of all this colossal mess. i am lost in my own labyrinth of thoughts. i cannot make out anything. at each turn i stop and examine the ground the roads the arrangement i make no outward movement myself. i am unreachable. i am the chaos dispossessed.