Meal is still lame like an injured camel. For lame are  the camels name Amel and Elma and Emal and Lema.
For all these are blind to their danger, their gamble
But truly I tell but one camel is lame
Now I beg ye fair maiden please tell me it's name?

Food for the camel

Sometimes I feel as if I'm in a race with my own thoughts.
Instead of me beating them,
they continuosly beat me.

And turn my habits into addicts.
Leaving me speechless.

Now its hard for me to form my thoughts into sentences, 
And my emotions into thoughts.
*How exactly do I decipher my thoughts into a language that I can translate?*