Wasting Time To Hide My Eyes From Then And Now, poem by Drem about PTSD

Now you can hear my accent… 😛


Wasting Time To Hide My Eyes From Then And Now, poem by Drem

Written June 25, 2016

“I wasted so many years

in front of a computer screen

talking to people who don’t,

and will never, know me.

And even more years wasted

in bed thinking of improbable things.

With anxiety high and clenched teeth and closed eyes.

And even more was wasted

on my impossible dreams.

They aren’t going to happen.

Those dreams

’cause I’m me.

And I’m getting out of skin

very soon.

Very soon!

It’s one thing to another.

Flipping lightning,

turning sideways,

to run away

in my head

from whatever is hurting.

Keeps hurting it.

But I can’t feel it

if I don’t breathe.

But I don’t like not breathing.

I can’t feel it

if I find

a new chapter,

past time,


or device

to get my mind

off of

whatever is hurting me.

I like that feeling.

Not feeling.

That cures the flashbacks


And i’ll take what I can take

to help pull back my skin

and expose the world to my wrists,

 in the mean time.

Ideas and my past

seep out

from the closed cabinets

I filed away

in my head.

I bang them back


Distract myself with

whatever I can

while they run their movies

and try to scare me.

Distractions. Distractions.

Addictions. Hobbies.

And all the days are actually weeks, from this.

And the weeks are actually months, now.

And I don’t know what year it is

because I haven’t been here, myself.

Physically doesn’t count.

Have you seen me?

I’m a silver static shadow

living off Netflix, opiates

and government assistance.

Pink and turquoise

painted pictures

in a kawaii-inspired

sleeping room

where people who know

how to sleep


and do what they do.

I’m not one of them.

I can’t relax.

So I find a lighter or a pen,

like I said.

And orange is my favorite color,

which you probably guessed.

And peaches are my favorite fruit.

And I do what I do

in my bedroom.

I sail away

behind the window curtains

of my castle.

Where clocks aren’t allowed.

And nobody says my name.

Where I really am not.

Because I’m not anywhere.

And I made myself

not anything.

And building the house was a waste,

just like everything else I do,

because I’ve already disappeared.

You can keep my skin and my clothes.

My past is now yours to hold.

The guilt has been passed down to you.

Some pills, dull razor blades

and video streaming accounts

all inclusive.

Books upon books of poetry

and a collection of pop surrealism paintings.

The memories of mine may overwhelm

that clean, innocent mind you have.

But my mom left $40 on the table you can take

to pay for a nice dinner before you put down your first sleep

in the purple cloak of my left behind depression.”


(C) Drem 2016



3 thoughts on “Wasting Time To Hide My Eyes From Then And Now, poem by Drem about PTSD

  1. I absolutely loved this. I read it first and I really enjoyed the frantic style and the rawness of the context. You can feel the hurt and the hopes but your reading was breathtaking. The furocity the whispers building to frustrated climax. The pauses which I read as simple breaks were wonderfully timed resets, the mind taking a second to breath and calm. I hate saying that I love poems that have such dark tortured themes that are do personal to the author but this floored me. Oh and as a side note, your accent is enchanting, I hope that doesn’t come across as creepy but listening to you speak is a delight. Anyway enough rambling, wonderful poem, fantastic reading, you’re amazing!


      1. Oh I understood perfectly and that’s the last I’ll say on the compliments will get really creepy! Haha. I do gravitate toward the darker, there’s that longing for a kindred spirit but the fact you can read a piece and understand the themes from experience no matter how small makes it a much better read. It does help your writing is fantastic so not only can I relate to something as wonderful as this piece but it’s so well written it captivates.

        Liked by 1 person

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