Sandman

another restless night spent
tossing and turning
on a mattress, designed
for the marques de sade
needles of pain dance along
the spine, mindless
commuters on a
biological superhighway
carrying messages of
desertion
from the sandman and
his motley crew
leaving behind
a family of sheep
chewing holes in the carpet
waiting for the countdown
holding for three weeks
to begin again
when sleep returns
to the valley
of bloodshot eyes
REM being the only key
allowed to open
a dreamland for
a weary soul
before breakdowns begin
minds abandoned
in a world of
swirling black & white
where the sleepless gather
caffeine junkies
on a Starbuck’s binge
unable to embrace
the cold comfort
of the hour before dawn
when the ghosts
of moments unlived
haunt the static filled
airwaves

of the AM dial