It's a beautiful confusion
From one simple conclusion
I made up on the spot
My life has changed equivocally
And here I find myself
...
:\
a little
              Lost.
It's a beautiful confusion
It's a mess up in this noodle bowl
Of wet spaghetti, out here trying
To just
           Figure it out dude,
Jesus Christ!
                Just stabin' with a fork for thoughts,
Trying to get em to wind
But they just keep slipping off
And falling back in line

-But also-

Like Spaghetti Junction at I-20 and 35 (that might be just me
Who calls it that, but it fits the mind
That locked it in. A six year old old boy, visiting his dad in Dallas for the first time)
A mass of twisting tangled lanes merging in chaotic looping interchanges, where ideas collide and collude and rearrange like pissedoff commuters late for their day
Throughexits and on-ramps and flowing freely at times and stopping dead still for an hour or two every day, twice a day
...
and when it rains
Or when it's too full of vehicles
to fit in the space; 'cuz you can only fit so much material in a physical space. And a brain is thing yhe really needs a case. So it's bounded and confined by the number of lanes it can build in and direction so it gets backed up from to much traffic trying to merge and hitting brakes, and it echos back through the increasing stack a moving parts in like compression waves.

So it takes some time to clear the line sometimes and get the thoughts moving and grooving again.

But like...
... At the same time!?!