I want this angst to take form in some elevating dream, but it stays stuck in thought, trapped in thought.
Words can't say everything.
Thoughts behind the words filter, form and dilute the nitty gritty truth.
Forming sentences shouldn't require so much strain.
I want my brain to function like a fighter in the ring.
I need a punching bag for my words to strike at.
These thoughts need to come up for air.
When my head hits the pillow, my mind races for the energy reserves thrown aside by my body's repose.
These sleepless nights are worrisome, they make tomorrow a lethargic sleepwalk in an alternate reality.
Either I need a punching bag or someone needs to punch me.
Knock me out.
Let me sleep.