Off a beaten night

Speak easy to me today. My brain is bricked with tired mortar from academic poundings and scholarly surroundings, loose and hard like a crashed-up lighthouse, but vulnerable too, like day-past-ripe bananas in a monkey fist. Why am I like this? Sometimes it's as easy to explain as a baby's gripe - he is hungry, go and feed him. Other times it's much more complicated, as when new knowledge weighs me down - like so much ice on aching branches, or startled salt water on the 2nd floor beach resort.
(Mother nature can be irresponsibly sad.)
What do I even know anymore? And where has feeling got me? I struggle either to accept the knowledge, or to wait for the temporary sense it makes to fade, the way cumbersome images from nightmares fade, or the melancholic way that marvelous, sleepy fantasies always fade into awake.

...my brain is wobbling; it's hard to listen. So speak easy to me.