the Sandman

the Sandman Apr 2015

Poetry

And we left faery rings where we danced
And giggled, in old classrooms.
And what we spoke, in soft murmurs,
Was poetry. More than the ramblings
Of our teacher could be called.
Every word we whispered
In uncertainty, up on tree branches,
Was poetry.
Poetry was the words we mumbled into each other's mouths
On balmy, rooftop evenings
Following our days in labyrinth-like malls
And each time he caresses my face
And tangles his skinny fingers in my hair
All I can think about is you
All I hear is whisperings of your name
Even when i sit with pen and paper
And write with conviction and structure about his dusky caramelness
Your eyes break through in my words
And your face seems plainly written,
Hidden between lines,
Mocking me till I spot it.
The rustly pages whisper your name to me.
And the words about him
Change slowly their meaning
And evolve into adjectives
Singing about the sugar in your voice
And the warm love of your arms.
It is a slow transfiguration/ a transformation
Like a children's flip book
With the torso of a ***-bellied clown
And bottom half of Adonis
In the way that, slowly,
The lines become about you.
Giggling secretly to each other
In disjointed horizontals.

the Sandman Apr 2015

Luce III

Every one of your droplets
Plopping onto the ground
Carries in itself a different world
Of untold delights and fancies
And horrors. And I choose
Which one I will sink in,
Which one I will unfold,
today.
~

the Sandman Apr 2015

Luce II

The crystals and diamonds
Drop and dangle, delicately
From the ends of your disheveled hair.
They Carry the sun inside them,
Holding the fragile star
close
In the split-ended hands of
The tangles in your locks.

My rain before leaf in the sunshine
•weeps, my
Love. Fierce love.
~

the Sandman Apr 2015

Luce I

I see the sun drip from the ends of your hair.
I leap to catch it but your towel soaks it first,
beating me to it.
~

the Sandman Apr 2015

You (and your limbs).

Your hands/your fingers/your palms,
Twined -a vine- delicate and proper
-The one point of softness in you,
I swear-
Around a cigarette that whispers its
Spiral tower wisps
Before it sizzles when you bite it
By accident (you say)
Before it whimpers, and gives-
The best way to die, surely,
To die on the pad of the tip of your
Finger protruding out your
Lovely balmy palm-
Look pretty fab I think! I want
To jump into them
So you can hold me so close
And I can crawl over, unsteady
On new, shortened (further!) legs
To the point on your wrist where
Your heart throbs the most.
In other words,
Be mine.

#beauty #fingers #smoke #cigarette #possession #wrist #mine #palm #limbs

the Sandman Apr 2015

Flye

I don't have a distinct poetic agenda
And I can never recollect accurately in tranquility.
All I am is a voice, but
I want to be a loud one
-Not seeking inspiration
Under every rock laying unturned
With a cosmic universe throbbing
Patiently under it.
I want to lie awake at night,
Vowing not to sleep until I reach my next goal-
I want to have goals
And not be a dreamless drunk;
I want to fly
And not flutter;
I want my wings to melt,
Over and over again,
Day after day,
Until I can build wings strong enough
To hold the heat of the sun
Inside them, and then propel further.
I am not Icarus. I am not
An aimless butterfly.
I am with direction.

#direction #goal #icarus #flutter

the Sandman Apr 2015

Untitled

Okay, deep breaths. I can handle this. People do it all the
Time. And I'm a people. Alright, I've got to now enter-
God, oh god. Why, why did I even come here? Okay,,
Maybe no one will notice me if I'm away from centre.
I'll go sit in that corner. Maybe I should go talk to
People; maybe I should get up. No, it's too late.
I'm going to die here. I'm going to throw up.
Oh **** it someone's coming this way.
Maybe I'll just pretend I don't see him.
Wait, oh no. He's saying something.
Oh god, what did he say?
Okay, I'll just nod along.
Smile. Nod. I hope that
There isn't something
In my teeth.
Oh god,,
breathe.
Breathe
-Why
won't my legs stop twitching?
Oh **** it. It's in my fingers now, too.
Maybe I can just peel them away. Maybe
I can peel away my whole finger.
I could peel all the skin right off my body.
I just want to run away. My legs
ache
To run till there aren't any people around anymore.
I wish the world would
give way beneath me and swallow me whole.
If I press my feet down hard enough, maybe..
Maybe the ground will shift and
sink under my feet,
and I can go inside and never have to talk to these people again.
Oh crap when did he stop talking!?
He's just looking at me now; did he ask a question?
I should say something. He thinks I'm an idiot,
I'm sure of it.
I'll just say "yeah." Or no, wait, I'll say "cool."
<<Yool.>>
Oh great. Just **** me.

#social #anxiety