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Submitted on
March 2, 2008
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Oblivion eludes me
as I kneel in
supplication;
on this vast wasteland
the sand blows
in mine eyes.

Sticks to my lips,
chokes the words
to garbled
sentences unsaid.
The dust gathers
and tumbles.

No water to quench
the unbearable.
Each dream peels
off my skin
leaving me raw
and bare.

Shivering in
the wavering heat
I face;
my mirage.

Sandman,
Morphing Lord
of Dream,
of Endless.
Why deny me my rest?

Your kingdom
is not mine.

Pay me my dues.
Escape from these
shifting sands,
fathomless dunes.
Give me, grant me
sleep.
Lack of sleep cripples everyone. We don't get our seven or eight hours, we don't function. Or at least I don't. This is another Sandman poem. The barren wasteland of the space between sleep and waking. The sand that blows in my eyes, not sleepy dust, just something to blur my vision. This is my plea to the sleep giver, grant me rest.
:iconkeahshu:
Keahshu Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2008
I like!! *nods* and I miss you like a-son-of-a-bitch!
YOU HAVEEEEEEE to come out and see me soon :P
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:iconsire011886:
sire011886 Featured By Owner Mar 2, 2008
Ummmm...awesome and unexpected, Rhoswen. This piece inspires me to write some Sandman poetry.

~ Anti
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:iconrhoswen:
Rhoswen Featured By Owner Mar 2, 2008   Writer
Always happy to inspire. Thanks muchly!
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