Sand Man
This treadmill
each night, running
yet going nowhere,
falling apart
disintegrating—
bit by bit
a crumb here
and there
diminishing the whole,
of who I am.
Its the sand man
who I fear each night—
or is it him
lulling me to sleep
with apathy,
a dead sadness
blackened by age,
pretending all along
to deliver sweet dreams.
This treadmill
each night, running
yet going nowhere,
falling apart
disintegrating—
bit by bit
a crumb here
and there
diminishing the whole,
of who I am.
Its the sand man
who I fear each night—
or is it him
lulling me to sleep
with apathy,
a dead sadness
blackened by age,
pretending all along
to deliver sweet dreams.
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