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

Monday, April 1, 2013

Eye of The Storm


Deep breaths
Through a chest full of glass
The pace it quickens 
The pain is fast

 Hold it there

Intake 
Through lungs that bleed
Through thoughts that tremble
Through Satan's weeds

 Hold it there

 Clear
The bramble
The hazy fear
The anxious breathlessness
Be only here

Hold it there

Whirlwinds of life
Madly move through your mind
Whatever it was
You've left it behind

Hold it there

Smile through closed eyes
With peace on your lips
Whisper the world 
Your forgiveness
And then 

Let it go.
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