Journal

Insomniac's Journal

Words birthed in the internal

His subconscious' dunk-tank

These words remained unranked

Articulate the contemplations

Of these waking frustrations

Pen in hand

Sleep be damned

These are the greatest thoughts in the land

But why do they come at 4 in the morning

Must write them down

And heed the warning

His memory won't serve him as well when he wakes

If only he knew what was at stake

Words, Words, and more still left to come

Cannot stop till he sees the sun

Sunken eyes

Blood shot red

Sleep finally comes to the walking dead

Monday, June 20, 2011

Insomniac's Dream

Light breaches through my skin
Illuminate the dark, one for the win
One good day, coming right up
Pep in my step, gotta full cup
Somehow things seem a little bit brighter
I don't feel like such an outsider
24 hours go by in a zoom
One good day foreshadows my doom
Night comes, and as I sit in my room
The darkness has me trapped in a tomb

Thought swirl in a haze of worry
Stress makes them into blurry
Fragments of wonderings
Problems of the past
Resurfacing and built to last
Wishing for sleep, to sweep in and take me
Endless nights why must you forsake me
Hours pass in what seems like weeks
Four O' Clock and my insomnia peaks
Clear my mind, just to sit and wait
Spend my time, stewing in my hate
Aching bones and a weary mind
I know that sleep will come in time

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