First in the morning
Nursed into warning
When dread sets the red sleepless eyes.
Another day dawning
And it’s beaten the yawning
The blue sinking heart meets the blue rising skies.
Where is the Sandman? Where is the Sandman?
Where is the Sandman. Where is the sleep?
Where is the Sandman? Lend me a hand, man.
Sprinkle your sand, man. Count me your sheep.
Threads have unravelled
The further I’ve travelled
St Christopher thumbs as he smokes.
On shoulder and gravel
The front seat is snaffled
The black dog attaching the heavier yoke.
Memories striving
To ease the arriving
Ignoring the grave-marked trees.
I guess I’ll keep driving
The game’s called surviving
Depression success when you win on your knees.
Where is the Sandman? Where is the Sandman?
Where is the Sandman. Where is the sleep?
Where is the Sandman? Lend me a hand, man.
Sprinkle your sand, man. Count me your sheep.
Drink in an ocean
To numb the emotion
A jaw-locking sore, clenching teeth.
Spill the cup’s quotient
The spirit devotion
The armour re-garnered, the sword out the sheath.
Now I can’t connect rainbows
Like a frog with a banjo
But the swamp’s all I’ve got, the same.
And songs on the radio.
They sting like mosquitos
But the word when it’s heard strikes, shifting the shame.
Where is the Sandman? Where is the Sandman?
Where is the Sandman. Where is the sleep?
Where is the Sandman? Lend me a hand, man.
Sprinkle your sand, man. Count me your sheep.
With what can they tempt me?
I’m running on empty
The butterflies hold not a spark.
The gates to re-entry
Are guarded by sentries
But under their light might be worse than the dark.
Sympathy fits her
She’s simply no quitter
The night punctured light by the moon.
In full, or a sliver
When symphony’s bitter
Her spoonful of sugar more than sweetens the tune.
Where is the Sandman? Where is the Sandman?
Where is the Sandman. Where is the sleep?
Where is the Sandman? Lend me a hand, man.
Sprinkle your sand, man. Count me your sheep.
Where is the Sandman? Where is the Sandman?
Where is the Sandman. Where is the sleep?
Where is the Sandman? Lend me a hand, man.
Sprinkle your sand, man. Count me your sheep.
About the Creator
Dane Fuller
My life is a cage but on the page I'm free.
Stories, poetry, anecdotes, thoughts.
Keep reading
More stories from Dane Fuller and writers in Poets and other communities.
📢 Raise Your Voice Thread: 01/08/2026
Our “Raise Your Voice Threads” are hosted most alternating Thursdays at 12PM ET to offer creators more avenues to uncover exceptional stories on Vocal. As we are continuously searching for fresh creators and inspiring stories, this thread provides an opportunity to exchange and discuss the stories that have moved and motivated us on Vocal.
By Raise Your Voice by Vocal7 days ago in Resources
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.