Shh- Time Can’t Find Me, a poem by Drem

Shh- Time Can’t Find Me, a poem by Drem

July 31, 2016

“My mother asked me the time

at dinner a bit ago.

I told her

I don’t keep track

of it no more

because I don’t want it

to keep track of me.

I’m hiding.

I got old.

Very suddenly.

I got very old.

I’ve felt it

for a long time

but at least

I didn’t look it.

I’ve lived it for a long time-

been through thunderstorms with big waves,

great loss, never love.

But at least I never looked it.

Now I got the proof.

And I want to hide

from time

to stop it

from progressing any further.

Stop it

from judging my failures.

I should be much further

in my career

and relationships,

I know.

I know.

So I try

to stop time’s standards.

Put handcuffs

on the great ticking arms

of the grand great clock

itself.

I’m trying, while hiding.

I don’t want any more birthdays.

I don’t want to count the days of the week.

Don’t ask me

what month it is.

Or when my bill

is due.

I’m hiding from time, now.

Hoping it won’t be able

to keep track of me

as I sit in my bed

doing nothing but yelling

at the thoughts in my head

to get out from on top of me

every night or morning or whatever,

i don’t sleep and know no difference,

and doing nothing

but occasionally writing

and doing nothing

but occasionally dripping

hot wax

onto

my white wrists

giving myself blisters

in the process.

I’m like the rest of you,

the rest of us,

when we were young

thinking I had forever

to accomplish what I needed to.

But this life is a motherfucker.

And it does what it wants.

And I have no control.

And this thing that ticks

reflects the scars on my arms.

And the machine that goes

needs no electricity.

The sun and the moon

and the stars

also stare at me

with pursed lips

and a titled head

nodding sadly

with disappointment

on what I am.

What I’ve become.

What I’ve not done.

What anxiety stole.

What depression stole.

This isn’t “fatalism”.

I’m made up,

like the rest of us,

of past experiences.

I am what I’ve lived.

I am what I’ve seen.

And it cost me great lengths

of hours and days.

I spend all too often

lost in dreams

while I’m awake

to get away

from the men that visit me

in flashes

behind my eyes.

It cost me great lengths

of hours and days.

So now I speak of no hours.

And I speak of no days.

And I speak of no weeks

or months

or years

or birthdays.

I am free.

I refuse to age.

I refuse to continue

to be seen

by those things

made of sun, or water, or metal or electricity.

Anything that keeps track of me,

even if that means

I need to hide from you.

Disappear from the world.

Turn into the dust

that settles

on the ocean floor

undisturbed

by the turbulence

up above.

Quietly.

Lonely.

But free

from the arms and the faces

of the mean clocks

that don’t like

me being so still.”

 


3 thoughts on “Shh- Time Can’t Find Me, a poem by Drem

  1. Brilliant concept, this a startling examination of youthful expectations. I’ve been very concern about my age for the past couple years and my lack of…well…anything. It’s a great piece and flirts with various identifiable comments that will effect a wide range of readers. Simply put, fantastic piece!!

    btw is it weird that I rest this in your accent?
    Oh and I agree though you may feel old you don’t look it, you look utterly amazing for 43!

    Like

      1. Yes read sorry auto correct and not wearing glasses when I’m typing. I did realise I was doing it till I was leaning on certain words differently than my Scots brogue. I find it makes the words more intense the right accent gets the right tortured inflection or atleast I think it does. Regardless it’s a stunning piece my dear and you should be ever so proud!!

        Liked by 1 person

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