Insomnia, Inc.
Awake again. Sleep still cob-webbing your eyes.
Sighing, you rise and know there will be no rest tonight.
The shadows of thought prompt you to wander from room to room,
Seeking distraction.
There was something you needed to finish, or begin, or put away.
Something needed to be written down, you're certain of it.
All elude you, now, when you should be dreaming.
Images come to the surface, unbidden
You wonder what others do at three in the morning
When their minds cannot quiet themselves.
The need for motion stills your hand reaching for a book.
There will be no comfort from words tonight.
Rooms seem to glow in eerie violet light,
As you count down the hours until dawn.
If I were an Ice Cube
If I were an ice cube
I do not think I'd melt
No fire could force me to change my form.
Though if i were a stone
No harder could I be
Even eons of time couldn't change me.
And if I were teh sharpest dagger's blade
Cutting you would be the reason I was made.
Pity I am not a statue
For surely I'd stand proud
Bearing silent witness to all the world's ambition.
Yet I could be a storm
Raging across it all
With no method to curb my violent destruction.
If nly I were of the slowest painful sickness
Destroying you would be my first sign of progress.
Wordy
Words;they bit eme, scratch me, enchant me, and envelop me.
I do not write them or speak them;
I wield them, discover them, borrow them, utter them, and choke on them.
I can detest and abhor,
Worship and adore.
They can expand and degrade,
Wound and serenade.
With them I am defined, illustrious, fearsome, and dagnerous.
WIthout them I am reticent, repressed, redundant, and restircted.
With my armory of words, I have found true power.
Tough I can never be their master.
I loathe and despise them:
Obligation
Homogenize
Pleonastic
Sinful
Misconstrue
Jealousy
I revere and exalt them:
Reciprocity
Provocation
Audacity
Unmerciful
Malevolence
Voracious
I am consumed by words; language is my tyrant.
They can feed me, free me, cut me, and amuse me.
My fiercest enemy and my truest friend.
They are all that will be left of me in the end.
The Wonderer
Dreaming of the expanse of bleakness
That always ahaunted him
In times of battle
In times of peace
Never leaving his mind to rest.
The Wonderer slowly reached a hilltop,
Ages away from teh nectar of victory.
He raged at the sun
He raged at the moon
Pacing all the while in torment of the Fates.
A narrow basin called to him
Promises he dare not believe.
Holding onto a glimmer
Holding onto a shred
Dying inside, every moment of his denial.
Shadows were weaving a story of their own
With shattered glimpses of time.
Blackening the waters
Blackening his thoughts
Shoving their triumph in his tear-stained face.
Coldness waxed across the chasm
Gripping with tendrils thread from memory.
Fearful of the nothingness
Fearful of the words
The Wonderer left unsaid and now how they haunt him.
The only weapon he did not wield,
His silence has left him broken.
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