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, May 10, 2012

The Warcry Manifesto

Demons whisper in my ear
Poison fills my veins
Blood runs black with fever
My wrists shackled and restrained

I am called a monster
I am called a menace 
I can see that I have 
Now run out of wishes
Venom drips in every word
Calling out for war
They haven't seen the last of this
They'll be seeing more
Putting down the rhetoric 
Picking up the reign
Choosing my next target
Break away the chains

If they want a monster
I can give them what they want
Tainted souls 
And clouded thoughts
Ready for the hunt

Be careful of your actions
Because you'll get what you deserve
Dark days are coming
Do not lose your nerve
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