I don’t dream anymore. 
my mind goes blank in its slumber—
either because I’m so consumed that all visions are devoid 
or because I’m so numb that my mind cannot avoid the blackness, 
unable to create sweet nothings for my lonely thoughts to occupy 
or even twisted fears my mind won’t conjure or supply
and yet it’s screaming, waking in a cold sweat 
begging for a release,
scraping the walls of a padded casing 
pounding hopelessly at cloud floors that won’t even give the gift of pain. 
I’m going insane and with what remains I’ll strain to train myself to hopefully be better in my next life. 
for now, my mind’s strife,
it is trapped within it’s own protective jail and won’t explore— 
which is probably why I don’t dream anymore.