Pro-frustranation

I sit on my computer. One page. One para. And I have to hand this in tomorrow. I feel sleepy. I’m getting distracted. And this is not the only paper I  have to write. Well, this is quite inopportune…

Restlessness

I am restless. I myself do not know why. All I know is that I am restless. I can’t sleep properly or think in ripples that harmoniously combine. I feel like I am wasted. Though obviously there has been no external drug use. What I feel I can’t always communicate; which should feel normal but in the now feels problematic. My heart either beats too widely or too slow; caught between the jinx of a sloth and a hummingbird. I need a better point to burst from, to flow from, to thrash and scream from, to muse and ponder from.

I feel like a wreck. What does a wreck usually have? If I think of ships I think blasted hulls, sails, compass broken and the anchor crushed though I have little knowledge of the anatomies of ships; I know that even cars get flats and bruises to the paint, am I that? I have little understanding of cars too. I am quite ignorant. Maybe, that is one thing putting me on edge.

I would like very much to have a fresh mind. A mind sans collapsed orbit. A swimming mind that harmonizes like flamingos on water. A mind that is not self-aggressive.

I have things to do. Can I do them? I feel rickety, shaky, unnerved…like a slipping knot tying up something useful; probably a stage prop ready to crash down and disrupt what was otherwise an ok play.

Only Allah knows where this ends, begins, paddles and comes.

I feel oddly, terribly exhausted. But the matrix of me keeps on a steady system. Or, what seems ok.

All I can feel is my heartbeat. And my mind clicking like a pair of scissors, clocks, roaring engines and a pinned dropped silence…