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

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Beautifully Decrepit

Beautifully Decrepit
Tactfully Insipid

Checked-out
Beat-Down
Broken-hearted man

Glory drained
Blood stained
Bleary eyed
And fever pained

Hopelessly in love

Shot-up
Screwed with
Kick him while he's down

Stand up
Fight back
Tell 'em Kiss Your Ass

Throw a punch
Kick up dust
Win her back
Broken heart, or not

Man of steel
Built to wield
A sword of truth and vengeance

The stench of vermin
Rules the land
But not for long
Comeback Kid strong

The hand of god can't stop me now
I come to strike the final blow

Enchanting fire
Whispers heart's desire
But I cannot

My will's retired

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