Sharp Charms, a poem by Drem


I don’t know what to think of this poem. Which makes me concerned. It’s very straight-forward. And it’s not flowery. And it doesn’t flow quite smoothly- it’s meant to be read aggressively. I just, I don’t know. I haven’t slept. It’s 9AM and I’m covered in anti-biotic ointment. I’m tired but can’t sleep because a depression sadness has taken hold of my body. And I just want to have enough stuff to post each day to keep people stopping by and engaging. I’ve been going out a lot and have no time to write during normal hours. And not sleeping is one of my first signs I’m slipping into harmful behaviors. But I’ve been in this hiccup for quite awhile. Nobody noticed. Hand me the Academy Award.

 

xoxo

Drem


Sharp Charms, a poem by Drem

July 24, 2016

 

“Night time,

4AM.

Binge watching last week’s

sci-fi episodes

on the couch.

Getting lost in them,

or trying to,

and getting lost in the 20 hits

of whatever I’m doing,

or trying to,

and getting lost in the usual

prescription regimen

my doctor gives me

that makes me dizzy

but does nothing much else.

No relief.

But I’m nonetheless trying

to run from me

inside my cloudy

mind

I’m lost in.

And when it’s time

to sleep

I come face to face

with what I’ve been hiding from

all day

that is, in-between

my anger

outbursts

directed at my

clueless mother

I’m stuck living with

because affordable housing

doesn’t exist

and Section 8

takes 4 years to get.

You think I’m progressing right now,

I know,

so this is a big surprise.

I’ve just been acting

and currently manically high.

And when I’m manically high

people like me.

I become charismatic.

And it’s summertime,

of course.

So I get glittery.

And so you ignore

the clear falling apart

going on

inside of me.

Because it’s much easier

than facing the ugly things

and I’m a damn good actress,

I must say.

All people like me are great

at faking it.

We’ve been down with this

for too long, you know,

to not learn some tricks.

By now I can look you in the eye

and say I’m fine.

And smile.

And make you think I’m alive.

Even when I’m not.

So I go back to my old friend.

My best friend.

My old friend.

And it’s not the kids I hang out with

all day

and go to the beach with

on the weekends.

And it’s not my cat

or my readers

or my pen.

No, it’s what makes

my skin turn red.

And it’s what makes

me forget the most.

Makes me go away

the longest

on my sleepless evenings

on that couch

I live in.

I tried burning.

It was my second or third time trying.

This turn with a match.

Wasn’t much fun, though.

I got a blister that is stingy.

I much prefer the scissors.

But that’s just me.

Everyone has their preference.

No judgement.

Whatever gets you off

is cool with me.

Scalpels, scissors, pins, and picking.

Sharpening a metal heart charm

on my necklace

for easy access

in random bathroom stalls

when it gets

too loud outside

and when it gets

too loud inside

in my head.

Blood pouring

down my leg

staining my stockings

drip.

Negative, negative.

Hopeless,

but for damn good reason

I am hopeless.

And that heart shaped necklace charm

I sharpened

was the best idea I’ve ever had…

It’s my right

to go away.

You can drink

to numb your pain.

And I can slice

away my tears

and hide the residue

with excuses,

leggings,

long sleeves

and sweaters.

It’s my right to go away.

And yours to hide your bottle.

You wouldn’t live in me either.

You don’t know

how much it helps

my desperate aching bones

that hurt from past abuse.

A history,

what made me.

It would make sense

if you knew me,

like really talked to me instead of at me,

and read all

my poetry.

I’m so fucking lonely

and don’t like what he did to me

and don’t like how I’m now empty

and don’t like

the inside

or the outside

of my body.”

 


15 thoughts on “Sharp Charms, a poem by Drem

    1. This poem has nothing to do with fate. It’s a trauma poetry piece about living (in the moment, as it’s happening) in a manic episode (maybe you are unfamiliar with mania??) and it deals with self-harm.

      I’m surprised it’s not clear. Or maybe you don’t know what fatalism is. But hey, if you don’t get it no worries.

      Like

  1. The concept of mania fascinates me, it’s quite peculiar. following your your intro I read this aggressively. It really grabbed me in that heart racing frantic sort if way. It’s a great piece and explains something no one sees.
    The chaotic flow is perfect for this, trauma poetry isn’t meant to be pretty it’s meant to relieve. I hope this has helped.
    Oh and I don’t have any academy awards but I have a hug and an ear that’s yours for the taking.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. i’m so happy you read it in the way i suggested!
      i never read my poetry with a smile on my face.
      i say it with a heavy ny accent and move my hands to the rhythm. it’s kind of funny. i feel like a rapper except instead of talking about money and cars and selling drugs i talk about abuse and insanity and taking drugs.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I understand what you mean when you feel like a rapper, I love your recordings for the beat poetry rapping style, plus when you lean on your accent it brings a far more intimate dimension to the piece.
        Your poetry has to be read with that passion, my normal reading voice doesn’t work but that’s what makes your work special you feel every word.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. YES that is what I strive for. i think it would be better live, and better if I had a real microphone. I have no microphone. I just use the internal mic.
        I stress different words that may not be picked up when read off paper or screen. I notice that in music, especially lately I’ve been listening to 21 Pilots. He stresses different words and it makes it flow better.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. That’s the art of a performance artist, musicians do this alot, the stress and inflection to evoke a rhyme.
        Your trauma poetry is amazing for this. The only drawback it its so personal and so intimate that it might be hard for you to perform to an audience. Recordings are great but that live ability to see your listeners react and the fact that you live every word would be something I would find daunting. Then again your was stronger than me.
        A microphone would actually be an idea I just use my phones recorder. I think I hear ebay calling. 😄

        Like

      4. I have and that one of the many reasons I love talking to you and reading your work.
        Your work is so close to the heart it’s filled with raw emotions, it’s meant to make you cry it’s meant to make the reader cry.
        I wouldn’t be concerned by that, it’s the public speaking aspect that gets to me, but you’ve got a fantastic flare for performance that all you’ll need is practice and you’ll have a live audience captivated. ❤

        Liked by 1 person

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