there is a completion
in letting go of
the last vestige of dream
a happy sigh
as the pressure leaks out
falling slowly into
the routines left behind
no more frantic scratching
just releasing the voices
settling into silence

the incessant cycle
creation to deflation
begin again and again
until you are buried
under unpublished manuscripts
suffocated by the same
words you needed to type
to relieve the burden
an overactive mind stuck
in neutral always revving

unlearning behaviors
allowing yourself to hear
the messages hidden
in the gaping silences
becoming something else
seeking new failures
to snatch out of the
slobbering mouth of success

a sense of completion
in typing the end
to finish a dream journal
before using it to heat
the cold in the shadow of the sun