please someone put a title to this

Whatever rocks your boat, beautiful, do it before they tell you not to. Everybody says don't as the song goes but few people I know actually know that song and fewer still like that song, or could sing to that song. My mind feels light as air or something similar to air and I really should be fumbling for a pillow to lay my head on. I've been complaining about not having had enough sleep and now the words come out of my fingers as if they were gushing out and I am not aware what sentence I am in or if what I am writing is still a sentence and it should be good to let go at times but there is still that --that-- I can't find the darn word oh yeah, that neurotic compulsion--even when one is afloat--to look back and check if the sentence is still following its proper thread or if the punctuation is correct but at this point it'll be too far behind to look back and really see what one has gone through as there are things that we, even with the utmost earnestness at bringing back we can no longer bring back, or change, or wipe clean no matter how we try to wipe things clean they remain stained or tainted with something what that something is we could not put our finger on or even think of naming because our mouths have run out of names to give to the things we see and hear and touch and cannot we drift along like words falling from the mind to the page, in streams sometimes in drops when the mind draws blank after blank after blank.