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, February 8, 2012

A Wish

Tomorrow,
Yesterday's forever
Inevitable,
In good or worse weather

Hatred burns a pointless fire
Forget it and strive to aspire

A wish to return
A fool's wasted turn
Never to be granted
Never to be earned

Accept the horizon
It's closer than expected
Eyes toward a downcast son
But what a beautiful sunset
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