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

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

The Victor's Road

On my road to redemption
No exemption from this ascension
Bursting out laughing
Just to release the tension
Not to mention
That my henchmen
Prevent me from my big win
Cause they're all broken tin-men
Sinning their unforgivable sins
Because the blacksmith
Forgot to give them all hearts
Why must I suffer for the death of a lost art
Please, let go of my coattails
So I can float to the top
You're weighing me down
And it has to stop
Victory isn't gained from
Carrying dead weight
You're a transparent mass of misplaced hate
Don't despair in my success
Go get your own
It's time to take you're own quest
It's time to build you're own thrown

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