Dear thoughts,

Waking up in the middle of the night, feeling empty. Still?

Staring at the sun being born, but can't remember a thing.

My dreams and nightmares are parts of me, slowly fading before the dawn. 

I could record them if I wished to, but I don't. Or? 

They don't belong to me, even if they should.

You can't control my thoughts, neither my dreams. 

They are my batteries. But suddenly, I run out of.

Monitored thoughts.

Monitored happiness.

Damn, we're so vulnerable.