Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Insomniac's Dream

To him, I give up my soul,
Tinted blue to match the sky.
But in hell, there are no colors.
He produced promises as poisonous
As the pills he feeds me.
I shrug and wait for the candle
To drip down to nothing.
I curse Eve and the apple,
Adam and the snake, and for
God, I blossom hate, vivid and red.
In my mind, guitar strings of fate
Are being plucked like greed;
My thoughts are silken thread,
Weaving dusty cobwebs in
My restless mind; soon,
I will lay me down to sleep
In an insomniac's dream.

4-15-10


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Insomniac`s Dream

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