Fighting Sleep, Fighting life,
When? How will I rest my head tonight?
Breaking in the sky, I will see sunlight.
To these weakening eyes, it's far too bright.
Morning breakfast's first bite
Restlessness is an uphill fight.
Misspelled words, a writers fright
Untamed thoughts, rage incites
A kitchen chair provides no respite
Another day of waiting for twilight.

West, outside my window, it's one O' three.
The night is as dark as my scalding tea.
I have realized I don't write for anyone else or the admiration,
I only write for me.

The inspiration was oddly impulsive,
But every word I wrote became fiercely captive
Read off the paper it resounded in angst.
Affirmation; This was not my motive.

Fallacy? My reasoning could be misconstrued.
I allow too many thoughts to intrude.
When I write I tend to second guess.
It's this doubt I must elude.

A fist to face
a claw to chest
another victim laid to rest
Inhuman screams to ear piercing shrieks
blood, sweat, and smiles land on her cheeks
Her lust,
the instincts fulfilled again
Her teeth grow a much thicker skin
The moment can't be savored;
she is doing herself a favor
The beast in her must stay on the move
Yet to her pack she's got nothing to prove
It's something she must do for herself
to finally place a book up on the shelf