Dissecting dysfunction

I want to see the stars as clearly as they're meant to be seen, which is also how I'd like to see my life.

 I want my vision sharpened  so much that I see through false intentions. 

I want a clear path ahead of me, obsidian sky above me. 

Yet character is created from chaos, not constant clarity, which is simultaneously unfortunate and miraculous.

 Chaos is cloudy and difficult to navigate. 

Mental chaos is driving in heavy fog when you can't see anything in front of you. 

It's all you, your thoughts, some panic, fear. 

Unknown things lie in wait before you,

but you can't quite grasp what the fuck you're supposed to be prepared for.

You're stuck in your car, or in your mind. Perhaps both, which is usually me. 

Yet I'm a professional navigator now, and I hide so much from so many. 

My thoughts are that delicate gold chain in the bottom of some makeshift contraption I'm using as a jewelry box.

 They're tangled beyond repair. 

Maybe they'll be unraveled and figured out one day, but that might take more time than it's worth.

 How did these twists and turns work themselves into such a complex state of affairs in the first place? 

So they're left alone at the bottom of the jewelry box. 

Or mind; I neglect those kinks within.  

They take up residence with the rest of the contents of my psyche. 

Mundane memories are cheap rings from gumball machines. 

Cruel comments spoken by someone  who said they loved me years ago (and i believed them) are the jewelry my grandmother gave me the last time I ever saw her. 

Hurts the same?  Lies dormant the same?

 Is this to be figured out? Untangled?Dwelled upon? Or left as is? It's just hanging out there.

Does it retain it's value, it's worth?

 

Should such dysfunction be dissected in an attempt to reap any reward? 

Some days it makes more sense than others. 

Most days it's best to leave it alone.