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Reoccuring Dream just after my hospitalization

I'm in Pee-Wee's Playhouse. Everyone in my life is there. Everyone in my life is on tiptoes. I'm wearing an angora sweater & a beehive wig which gets surprised looks from my parents & in-laws, but small, knowing cackles from everyone else. There’s a party going on, with a buffet of Ice Cream Soup, Peanut Butter & Jelly sandwiches, ice pops, & French toast.


I can never tell who, but someone says it:


“Have they tried to commit suicide again?”


Every puppet, every person, every little living thing in the house, everyone out in TV Land, they all join in & scream in delight.


Pee-Wee laughs as the secret word of the day flashes on screen:




The secret word is always the same.


I wake up every time the same - sweating, shaking, searching for my wife’s arms.

Drinking Rhinestones

Yeah I filled the forms out yeah the triplicate sorry if it’s hard to read my handwriting ain’t the best at the best of times & I’m just shaking so much no I haven’t taken anything no they didn’t even give me anything at the ER well no that’s not true I think they give me some sailene & something for hydration & maybe some kind of tranquilizer or stabilizer or something I’m sorry I’m not really good I’m like I’m like fucking uh goldfish right now or something all I know is they told my wife to drive & it was probably some kind of tranquilizer now that I think about it can you change that I know it’s soothing sounds but like the water noises just really make me wanna pee oh yeah that’s much better what is that oh city ambience yeah I like that a lot better what I’m sorry what where were we oh um yeah I have intent and ideation & I was gonna just drive into a retaining wall or just into traffic & yeah that’s probably why or another reason why they didn’t want me to drive no I haven’t eating anything since like breakfast oh uh thank you I can’t eat that no I like Snickers I’m just lactose intolerant & the chocolate yeah I’m sorry oh hell yeah chips that’s great oh Coke if you have it thank you thank you this is great how long oh I think now that I’m thinking about it probably a good few years now it’s just the weird little noises it’s like um let me back up you ever been at a show like a rock show or some kinda concert and it’s right after the last song of the night before the band or the singer or whoever does the encore & it’s like just that high static feedback that shakes all the walls of whatever shit theater you’re in or wherever that’s like what the depression used to feel like & there were these murmurs or whatever or however you want to put it & it was like when you walk by a bunch of people & you hear them talking & fucking it’s like you hear them talk and you know that it’s words they’re saying but your brain can’t like quite extrapolate what it is the words are actually that are hitting you that’s what all this was like for forever honestly like since I was like 16 or something but like the last couple years it was like just this endless annoying friend who is trying to keep the party going an hour after it really ended like an hour ago and you’re both walking outside watching the race of the headlights keep on an endless loop like needle getting locked into the groove of an old Hendrix record or something and they just fucking have had way too much to drink and they won’t shut up except instead of it being like their fucking screenplay or their ex it was just an endless why don’t you kill yourself no one cares no one would mind you’d be doing everyone a favor every day hurts every day is just taking away more of you anyway you’re so fucking sad and angry all the time and you literally think about this shit all the time why don’t you just do it just go just go just fucking come on and go oh you ain’t got no reason not to fucking hell you’re gonna be better for it and so will everyone that knows you so just fucking go ahead and do it you’re about to lose your job today anyway and that’s all you were good for anyway and fuck what you think they can’t find some other washout dirtbomb burnout to sell fucking couches are you shitting me come on it’ll be easy go buy a little thing of whiskey and it’ll be so painless it’ll be so easy you won’t fell a fucking thing and finally yeah I thought I was just doing fine and then I’ve got that nice nurse checking my body for self-harm marks and I apologized for the state I was in and them I’m in here talking



You sure are taking a lot of notes.

CLEM FLOWERS (They/Them) is a poet & low rent aesthete; pizza man lover & poetry editor of Blue River Review & Pushcart nominee. Nb, bi, and queer as hell, living in a cozy apartment with their wonderful wife & sweet calico kitty. Found on Twitter @clem_flowers

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