The beginning of this poem came to  me in a flash, but now it's one of those I can't seem to tie together (there are poems that have been in my subconscious for years before they were really "finished").   So I've thought that perhaps the problem is that I haven't figured out what I'm trying to say here, i.e. my subconscious hasn't yet informed my conscious self of what the heck is going on here.

this is what I have so far:

i have
incredible
moments of
clarity

it's not
unlike
being high

a sound can
trigger lost
remembrances

a scent
drifting ages
half forgotten
wisping by

(it feels like there should be more here)

i sense
indelible
depths of
reality

it's just
so hard
to describe

patterns shift
bring back past
intolerances

dreamers
sifting pages
so well hidden
live a lie

i weep
intangible
from what you
ask of me

it's not
unlike
bleeding dry

===================== and here I am stuck.  I just don't get it, and I'm definitely frustrated with it.