Where am I?

Should I start again where I left off? Lift all the loose threads up to braid a poem? Am I suffocating myself with this systematic whirlpool of thought that I tend so carefully? I think I’m being too careful. I judge what I post here by my own standards, and I fear that my thought has grown a bit wild in the dark. I’ve become too sensitive taken up in books, and dreams. Where am I? I invite anyone who visits this place to make a comment and tell me what they think.