When Freedom Is Too Much, a poem by Drem about living with addiction

Below is an attempt to illustrate the life of an addict who goes in and out of rehab and on and off the streets.


When Freedom Is Too Much, a poem by Drem
Written Feb. 7 2016

“This whole world is spinning

and I think I’m going to puke.

They’ll be forced

to stop this ride

of my life

to clean it up.

Then I’ll sneak off

and go get high

on the peach oval pills.

Count 1, 2, 3, 4 of them.

And visit the strip mall.

Buy lingerie

to entertain

some useless boy

who I hate

but calls me his.

Ain’t that a sweet thing to say

about me?

To be owned by somebody.

So I keep him around.

Three shots of espresso,

mouthwash, later

on to the next one.

And so I begin

on the routine again.

But I don’t want to get to know him

or them.

That’s a whole other rollercoaster.

And I only sometimes want to fuck ’em.

It all involves too much emotions.

And lots of bullshit.

No, I need to be numb.


Not feel.

 Dull the bad thoughts

that become more and more real

the longer I’m out


Peaches, please,

because the world’s too loud

and it’s too bright

so I end up wearing sunglasses on

at night.

No, I’m not cool.

And my eyes

are not bloodshot

from being strung out.

I just cry

too, too much.

See you don’t know shit

about my sob story…

like sex abuse, and self harm, and emotional abuse,

and self-expression on my skin.

My scars.


They make me beautiful,


See, I got a backstory.

And that boy is back.

A sick motherfucker

with a knife in his hands

with no casted shadow

and whose feet hovers slightly and unsteadily above the laminated floors.

He’s weird.

And I’m still not high enough to like him yet.

It’s too late to think anyway.

We’re both getting back on.

Leave the knife, boy.

It will set off security

and killing me won’t do much good.

Have you seen my eyes?

Someone got to me before you.

Took what he wanted a long, long time ago.

We’re getting back on

to the rhythm,

to the order,

to the place where things are in order.

Where rooms have open wide windows

and screens you can pull up

to feel a full breeze brush against your cheek.

And there’s unlocked doors

and keys we own.

Freedom, wind, freedom.

Taste it.

It’s too much.

I know it.

I brought more pills for when we get back off later.

(c) Drem 2016

Image found on Google Images. Edited in standard Mac Photo editor.

24 thoughts on “When Freedom Is Too Much, a poem by Drem about living with addiction

      1. I’m in a bit of a writer’s block situation so I’m going to start a series on music that helps me during times of depression, chronic pain and anxiety. But, hopefully new stuff soon!

        Liked by 2 people

  1. Reblogged this on hurdygurdygurl's Blog and commented:
    Still not drunk enough.
    Never will be.
    It never ends.

    Monday’s are hard.
    Always will be.
    Tomorrow is a new day.

    ‘When Freedom Is Too Much’, a poem by Drem, about living with addiction.

    I love the words and art of Drem. It gives me hope for another day, through all the pain, numbness and despair.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. You know I didn’t know that people called them peaches. I only called them peaches in this poem and now i’m going to make it a thing xD
      It makes sense because of the color and i wanted something that brought color into it.
      Are you farther West than Alberta?

      Liked by 1 person

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