I lay down to rest my mind
but sleep wouldn't grant me my wish
dreams cost too much
for my taste
thoughts ask for too much
to be enjoyable for long
memories show up too often
to be called upon
so the paint peels back on the walls
of my brain
you can see the sheetrock
and the holes
all the problems are there
to be analyzed by my trained eye
that problem is not that I think
the problem is that I can't trust my own thoughts
they are wrong and politically incorrect
and useless and essentially incapable of action
I know the answers
but the questions seem too daunting to address
so push it back,
push it back
it'll be better in the morning