The Sandman

January 18, 2009
By Rachel Mullinax, Maylene, AL

A spread of opaque dream
Strikes my hidden vision
Dampened in mist
To exist in front of my eyes

Sleep’s extensive fingers
Coated in glistening black
Create frigid crumbling cracks
Shattering trance to lies

So we beg for light
Scrambling for grasps
Of remnants, of shaded vapor
Our personal shards of time

Yet as desperation protrudes
From my throat, from my lips
Sleep and instance, irrevocably intertwined
Run to their haven, my enemy’s divine

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

Parkland Book