My best thoughts are wasted
being awake

artificial constructions of an undersized intellect
struggling to overcome
trappings of training. Maybe while sleeping is
the only time to admit
inability to create
Passivity cures the burden of laying down our heavy heads
horizontal to regenerate.

Some people
solve their problems at night, in the dark with closed eyes

the best time to figure out
what you want. Your hands know

first, they don't need light
But in the morning they forget again, blinded
white mice.

My best thoughts are wasted
on you

Some people
solve their problems alone, asking their hands

to figure out
what to want. But my hands don't want anything

they let my thoughts go
like money meant to slip through fingers
Texture of withdrawal's gliding softness
Texture of exit.

My best thoughts are wasted
sitting around, so they go out on the town
without me, celebrating
their freedom and my
utter helplessness.