Tank, I need an exit

Jack is trapped. In a very small place. Where his sentences can't. Be more than five words. Long. A short space to think. Even shorter to do. Jack can breathe, just barely. He walks out of the h... No, doesn't make it. Tries to pick up the ph... Didn't make it either. Did he ask for this? Did he put himself there? Jack doesn't know. He can't think that long. Ago.

He needs continuity. Or maybe just more syllables. Like communicative and expressiveness. And foreverandever. Jack knows he's deluding himself. Right now, he's only got. "Me" and "you". How about hyphens? He could do with hyphens. Like grabbing-at-straws and keep-your-fingers-crossed. Maybe he should just. Remove the punctuation marks. And talk like a train. Like everyone else. Maybe he just needs. To sleep.

But when he dreams, he dreams in technicolour and surround sound, with reel to reel footage of non-stop action, suspense, drama and romance. In it, he's the hero, or is rescued by his heroine, makes no difference, he doesn't mind, as long as he can put in more commas. Jack is free to think and to live and to love. Most of all, to express how he feels and to show it. Why can't he when he's. Awake.