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

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Devilish Demonics

Devilish demonics
Written on our souls
Beckoned dead & wandering
Pushed into a hole
Silence fills their every scream
Of which we've counted many
For their vice
They'll give it all
We're glad to give them plenty
Drink & slurp
Please have your fill
Your hunger's worth a golden field
When you're full
Content and sated
We'll be so glad
That we waited
To take & tarnish
What we created
To bask in greed
Gore, lust, and hatred

Into the hole you'll find a shell
A shriveled husk
A twisted smell
Unrecognizable
From what was there before
But still we hope
To beckon more

Would YOU like to join us now
A taste of wine
A cut of cow
The beef is cooked to perfection
The wine is of the best selection
We welcome you to be our guest
We hope you come, at our behest
When you arrive
Pay no attention
To the chasm
At the entrance
Or the screams
That emanate
It is the regrettable eyesore
Of our estate
We are excited about your R.S.V.P
Dinner will be served at 6:23 PM

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