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

Sunday, September 23, 2012

A Well Placed Shot

A well placed shot
From the dearest
Of my dearly beloveds
The color of betrayal
A dark blood red

A hole through my chest
Straight from behind
A tear from the sky
Falls over the line
A line in the sand
Drawn with sweat and frustration
Deep and defined
It continues to test my patience

You didn't believe
There was something left to save
Now I'm bleeding out
On this gilded road we paved
Abandoned & Abated
Blood streaming through my thoughts
Left to my devices
Left to watch my wounds rot

This culprit
Of a not-so-victimless crime
It seems I've forgiven
Time after time

This is not the first hole through my chest
But a well placed shot
Lays waste to the rest
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