Sand In Cement, a poem by Drem

Blue Sand
“Blue sand” of the Maldives

So I can’t find the re-write of this anywhere which completely sucks because now I need to start from scratch.

 

So here it is, Sand in Cement.


Sand in Cement, a poem by Drem.

Originally written Aug 11, 2015.

Rewritten Sept 1, 2016

“I’m the grain of sand

that stuck and makes the cement

you walk on.

I’m the girl

whose ideas

are stuck in her head

because she knows they are

realistically

unattainable.

Glass half full.

Ha.

If you knew me better

you’d understand.

I’m not an act of apathetic behavior,

as in dispassionate.

No.

My grasp of reality

is a privilege I hold dear.

And the true taste of fruit

that never blooms

from my endless labor-

well it’s better to know

my work results in nothing,

know I’m unemployable,

know I’m a cog in an endless running wheel

then be in denial.

Ha.

Trapped in four walls?
No.

I’m locked inside

the oval.

Inside.

A damaged,

screwed up,

dented piece of scrap.

My  mind.

No matter how many times

I try to use my handy-dandy

pocketknife

to peek out,

it doesn’t work.

I just slice myself

up with the blade

in the process

of my pathetic attempt at escape,

I just bleed.

Mine is mine.

I’m too small

on a global scale to matter.

And I’m too big

for boys to think I matter.

And I’m too old to care,

but in truth I do care.

So I pop my Klonopin

and the latest SSRI of the month.

I stopped Ativan.

It’s shelf-life was too short.

And I pop a Vicodin

every now and then

when I get really sand

because being a grain of sand,

being so lonely,

and so removed

from this fucked up

degenerate, sex-crazed

and perfection-driven,

entitled and directionless society

where one’s weight

is valued more than one’s intelligence-

well, it causes my heart of ache.

And my soul to physically hurt.

I feel my soul.

Can you feel yours?

I drown in it.

Sand now, I am.

Sand at the bottom of the ocean.

Somewhere deep and dark

with fancy glowing fish

and albino red-eyed sharks

that scare the fuck out of me

with their big teeth.

I just take another klonopin

and go to bed

right there

with the billions of other

pieces of sand

and the billions of twinkling stars

showing themselves off

above my head.

You know I still alone.

But this many milligrams in,

I’m too effin numb to care.”

 

 


One thought on “Sand In Cement, a poem by Drem

  1. No, no, you’re not. It’s still possoble to see you and get you, even as trapped and inwardly-facing as you feel. Anyways… Your photo is stunning here, and I’m glad you’re back!

    Like

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