The Running Watercolor World, a poem by Drem

When the characters in your head rebel…

 


The Running Watercolor World, a poem by Drem

Originally Written Sept. 7, 2010

Edited March 24, 2016

“The lovely imaginaries are raging

and running around

in circles.

With my no inspiration to turn to,

no pure tune to hold on to,

they are starting to drown

into backdrop.

There’s a figment or two

just pressing their curves

on me

to no end.

Pushing their fictional

memories out of their head

on to me.

And I, their creator,

cry in my bed.

I can not prove

they exist

or prove my own existence.

Nor feed their need

for an ending.

It’s causing an upset stomach.

They don’t know that

I, myself,

am an everlasting

afterthought.

It’s called depression.

They scream

and they beg

to their mysterious power,

that is of course me.

I try to answer

but I’m too far away.

The imagination food chain is dying.

It started with the bees

in my brain

that buzzed

and gave me headaches.

Then came the depression

that hit my face

and went down my throat

and stayed in my chest.

Then came the pills

and opiates

that merely lowered their sounds even more.

I’m too far away, my imaginaries think.

And they’re right.

I’ve locked them in a cloud

locked away in a town

and they’re now deaf to my ears

because my world

outside

is a watercolor painting

that got hit by a hurricane.”

(c) 2016 Drem

 


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