The Great War Outside And Inside, a poem by Drem (w/ audio)

 

 

The Great War Outside And Inside, a poem by Drem

July 26, 2016

“Three milligrams of Lunesta later

and I’m still awake

with a migraine

from bad thoughts

and the same bad dreams

I always have.

I screamed, out loud,

for them to go away

and it didn’t work.

They remained

in the forefront

behind my eyes

when I got up.

So I  run from them.

But they are draining me…

down,

that’s what they do.

Drowning my rational thoughts

into the sink of dirty water.

All fuzzy

and cloudy

now

outside my window,

my window- my eyes to my soul (duh)

and

these eyes what I use to see the little world

I created

in my room

that I live in-

all fuzzy

and cloudy

now.

I remember my dreams.

There was a hotel and a hotel.

I was walking

from one to the other

with my mother

and inside was a ghost

of my noona.

I woke up

and thought she was still alive.

Thank God she isn’t.

I need to go to the beach

tomorrow

with Joshua

to get some Sativa

so maybe we can both

actually sleep

in a semi-induced

drug coma

–  complete with shallow breathing

from mixing with whatever

under the hot sun.

Sleep for longer than 3 hours.

That would be great!

But that would involve a bus trip

and two subway rides

and I’m really too tired

and too depressed

to go that far

out to Brooklyn

especially in this heat wave

New York City

is in the midst of

in-between violent thunderstorms

that are oddly mirroring

the war in me.

I keep yelling at people

to get out of my head

and that makes me sound psychotic

but I really don’t care.

They talk outside of me

at me

and never leave me alone-

long enough for deep sleep.

And when I do sleep

my brain gets revenge

and plays the song

of memories past.

The same memories

I run from all day.

I’m so tired of running.

I’m so tired of sleeping.

Everyone hates me.

My own psyche is against me.

Telling me to go fuck myself.

Leading me farther and farther

away from God the Father.

It’s spiteful.

Everyone hates me.

Inside and outside

my body.

Everyone hates me.

So, like, a bunch of sleeping pills later

and I’m, you know, still awake,

now writing.

Scribbling nonsense.

Trying to feel productive.

Get my mind off the world outside

and the world in me

and the war going on

between the two

that would drive anyone

farther and farther

away from God the Father.

The B-sides of my life

make it all too confusing.

A part of me yet still

wants to sleep.

This is quite confusing.

And the war inside and outside is quite loud and quite, quite confusing.”

 


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