A weird poem that I'm sure matters to me alone, but at least I spilled it out. |
-Turns To Sand- by Keaton Foster Turns to sand In these hands Abnormal Is this man I’ve done things Horrific things But for all That I’ve done No one has ever Been hurt but me No one has ever Died but me Just increments At a time Bits and pieces Some important Other quite irrelevant All of it gone Inside my soul There is a hole An impossibly empty pit Where nothing lives Where nothing is king Inside my head A wilderness of id All around are creatures Masterful adaptations Cleverly created by me And my tortured existence Sometimes they transcend Upon the blank page They come to appear Sometimes I bring them forward From insanity to reality All that I would like to do My deepest trespasses Easily they do it for me When they are done They just disappear Back into nothing Back into thin air Never again Will I bring them forward Never again Will I rely on them Upon myself And my own mind Is all that I Can truly depend on All that I touch Turns to sand All that I embrace Dries up and blows away As it leaves it touches my skin Causing a stinging burn That for a time belongs A reminder of loss A cautionary exposé Over what is not And what Will never be again Just as it ends It always begins again The cycle is throughout From nothing to something From my ideas to madness None of it is spared None of it is unclear All of it turns to sand What few remnants That survive find their way To the naked page inspired That is why I continue on That is why I fight to endure That is why I’m here… Turns To Sand Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014. |