The Sandman

I do not sleep often
so our visits are far and few
once his sand’s in my eyes
it’s goodnight for(ever and) nine hours.

On occasion I share his bed,
getting tangled up in lucid sheets
woven from the imagery fabrics in my head,
and he whispers to me truths
wrapped in lies

He protects me from the Badlings,
the Nightmare People,
whom I angered long ago.
He keeps them from reaching out
and pulling my hair.
Twisting my thoughts to drive me mad
enough to dance upon their sawtoothed grins.
They want to tie me with their tongues
and swallow me whole.

They do not accept apologies
or see amends in peace offerings.
They raise their fists to him
screaming for their just dues
while I’m hidden away
in a sacred dreamland
hands cupped over ears.

When the coast is clear
I awake to the sun
and find him gone
sand pouring from my eyes.

The final remnants of his sleep.


This piece is a collaboration between the Spiral Artist and I. We’ve known each other for 13 years but this is the first time we’ve collaborated.

This is also the first time The Mister (aka, my husband) has gotten involved in the editing process. He critiqued and helped us smooth things out.

Please visit my friend @

You can also connect with me on Twitter: @sm_saves


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