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, January 30, 2013

Ruthless Contempt

The fragility of this civility
Is imperceptible
But it's getting to me

Inside my head
Dead thoughts begin to roam
Rabid dogs begin to foam
True intentions will be shown

Curling fists of fury
Tension spewing truly
Tendrils of frustration
Reach for excommunication

Apologies are now
Gone with the wind
Sorrys only work
Now & Then
But till the day comes
I will bide my time
Store my grudge in brine
Pretend to be just fine
Exhale
And stand in line
Underneath
My teeth will grit and grind
This smile I wear
Is the aggressor's sign
Unbeknownst to the target
Of this contentious rhyme
The obsessive mind
Can falsify kind
For as long as it takes
I will wait and pine

Here's a polite hello and wave
From my friendly neighbor
Unknowingly accepted
From their next door traitor


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