If I Don’t Comfort My Heart No One Will, a poem by Drem

Oh, the wonders of a post traumatic mind!

This one has been written for well over a week. I wrote this for my mom to prove a point that I can still express myself while on anti-depressants.

In truth, when I’m on a lot of shit (like right now) I’m zapped. Prefer zapped. Shh.


If I don’t comfort my heart no one will, a poem by Drem

Published May 27, 2016

“Under hail
and bleeding
between
the sharp blades
he sharpened
I am.

My hands
push and push sand
into the cuts
so they get infected.
I get infected.

My hands
shake and shake
to the rhythm
of the pacing heart
it’s feeling.
I’m feeling.

My hands
tear apart
each level
of the wall built
to hide from you.
I see you coming.

Under hail
and bleeding
between
the sharp blades
I placed there
that he prepped and sharpened
I am.


I am accepting the guilt.
I don’t know why.

I am accepting the blame.
I don’t know why.

I am accepting the fault.

I don’t know why.

I am polishing the fucking razor blade
I used to slice away
the pain I had when I was
with him.
But he’s not here anymore.
I keep the pain going.
I don’t know why.

Under hail
and bleeding,
choking on a super8
round of tape
between the synapse-made movies
that keep playing,
I’m reliving.

We’re all alive and performing

the parts again and again

in the lovely

post-traumatic mind of mine.”


2 thoughts on “If I Don’t Comfort My Heart No One Will, a poem by Drem

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