Running From Depression’s Sleep, a poem by Drem

Running from Depression’s Sleep, a poem by Drem

Written June 22, 2016

“In and out.

I’ve been

in and out

over the past few months.

In my head.

All the time, I guess.

That’s what people tell me.

But I can’t remember much

and it’s suddenly catching up with me.

And I’m afraid I can’t remember

who I was friends with

and who I dated.

What meds I was taking

and who I was fucking.

It’s all a blur.

And very confusing

as I wake up now

from a life I don’t remember living.

So I’m running.

I am running so fast.

I am running so fast.

Past everyone and everything.

Nobody can catch me.

Not even my depression.

Especially my depression.

I am six steps ahead of him.

And he’s six steps behind me.

And I’ll keep it that way.

I won’t let him take me!

I won’t have my shoulders

be grabbed

and my eyes be closed,

and my body be dragged

six feet under

as I spend the following six months

in bed again all alone.

I may have been breathing,

but I’ve been dead for years.

What I was doing was not really living.

It’s not a life.

And I want to live.

I think I do.

I think I do, anyway.

I can’t remember what it was like.

But it must be better than this.

They say it’s better than this.

So off with the anti-depressants,

even though I’m a manic depressive.

And off with the narcotics,

even though I’m on chemo.

And off with the opiates,

even if they help.

I’m raw! And I’m free!

And I’m praying to Jesus

that I won’t go manic

and crash all over again in August.

Face down, head first, in my pillow.

Doors closed. Shades down.

You get the picture.

I don’t want to repeat

the hazy dream the drugs they give me

put me in.

I don’t want to sleep

away the little days I have left.

I don’t want to breathe

when I’m not taking breaths.

I don’t want to fear

tomorrow, today or the past.

I just want to run.

Run so fast.

He can’t catch me.

No, he WILL NOT catch me.”

(C) Drem 2016








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