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, February 28, 2013

And Then There Was None

This is the last
You were the one
It all ended fast
Glad you had fun
We stole what we could
We laughed and we danced
These times, they were good
All whims and chance
I'm lonely now
I miss you a ton
My laugh not as rich
I can't dance with just one
I've laid you to rest
More times than I know
Goodbyes and best wishes
Closure doesn't come wrapped in a bow

I say goodnight
To sleep
I have gone
The rain too peaceful
The memories run

One final showing

One last admission

One more viewing

Before your excision
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