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, April 21, 2013

Watching Through The Window


I kinda wanna sit around with you
And watch it all from my window
I wish I had a clue of what to do
But lately I’ve realized
I just don’t know

I kinda wanna bury my face in the pillow
And let the soft cotton
Soak up my sweet sweet oxygen

I kinda wanna fall to the bottom
Of the deepest part in the ocean
And just chill there for a bit

I kinda want to break loose
And break everything that I own

I kinda wanna break free
Break out and head out all alone

I kinda wanna build a contraption
That would make me fly

I kinda wanna know all the answers
To the questions that started with why

I kinda wanna know
What I kinda wanna do
And I know you’re over there thinking
What thoughts I’m thinking of you

But my thoughts really have no direction
I’m on a mad tear
Whimsical nonsense
There’s no time to spare
I cannot control
This reckless rampage
My thoughts are all actors
Playing parts on a stage
In a play that only makes sense to me
Myself and I
To that we agree

I kinda wanna do none of these things
But all at once
Because It’s kinda fun just sitting here with you
And watching it all from the window

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