Sand In Their Toes

'Tis I 

Night owl, and dreamer extraordinaire. 

First I lie like I am 

Dead 

I cannot move or speak

For hours I lie motionless. 

But then my muscles start to 

Twitch

And itch 

I wake up, my inner

Clock broken. 

I know longer know which is 

Up and which is 

Down. 

My mind starts to wander 

Aimlessly, until it finds 

It's mark. 

A brewing pot of 

Bubbly, sticky, 

Gooey, mushy, jealous 

Mess. 

And I think on it

For awhile. 

My everyone else

Is getting sand in their toes while I 

Am getting sand in my ears

Oh, the torture! 

It pours out my mouth

Drying out my throat and

Sticking to my 

Soul. 

Instead of pouring me out, 

I fill up 

With more and more and more 

Sound that pounds and 

Courses through me. 

Until I am so full with 

Sand and sound

That I 

Burst

So I am everywhere now, 

Here and there

There and here

Wide awake.

Thinking of 

Stupid, minuscule moments

That should mean next to nothing. 

But, ah! 

It is the human condition. 

It is my condition.