All posts by Sue St. Blaine

About “Drone”

I wanted to give some information about the poem “Drone.”

I wrote it, as it says, while I was mired in a depression.  I have never been able to adequately describe what it is like for me, what depression feels like most of the time.  It is incoherent and sloppily written but I have made no edits.  It is exactly as I wrote it and found it a few days later.

The drone itself is one of only a few auditory hallucinations I’ve ever had, and the only one that is consistent.  I have gotten to the point through many years of work that I can recognize a depression coming, or my husband does and warns me, but if I hear the drone, it’s too late; I’m too far away now.

I recall that I was lying in bed at this time, so the drone was inside me.  If I am walking, it follows me like a mindless creature, from habit, drawn to warmth.  It is in the same place every time, on my left, slightly behind me, floating along.  I see it as a sort of fuzzy ball, always black, about the size of a tennis ball. And the sound it makes, the best I can say, is a drone.  A deep, rumbling, yet quiet drone, like a bagpipe sort of, that’s the best way I can describe it.

It does hurt, depression, as I mentioned.  I’ll expand on that later.  But yes, it does physically hurt.

Drone -Written during a depression

the drone is in my ears I can feel it inside my head and hear it in my ears

it is in my chest and my throat and my stomach and my ears

it is in my eyes and I can see it and it is all I can see


it is the color of black but not black


it hurts


all over and inside and in my throat I can’t speak over it


I can’t speak to it

I can’t speak for it

I can’t speak for it


it is in my spine


it hurts


I can’t control it I can’t stop it I can’t make it go away


I can’t make it go away

I can’t make it go away


I can’t think

I can’t speak

I can’t reason

I can’t feel

I can’t throw up


I can’t shake it off though I try to shake I am in rigor mortis



I can’t breath


it pulses with my heart

the sound is a throbbing drone

all the time


all the fucking time


just make it stop

Changing Labels – Changing Thinking

Sometimes if I’m home from work because my illness has decided to bite me on the behind, sometimes I belittle my need to be home because there is “nothing physically wrong with me” meaning, I don’t have a cold or a flu or leprosy or something.  My problem is mental, that’s why they call it mental illness.

So I’m thinking about that just now.  The phrase “nothing physically wrong with me” makes me feel weak, like I’ve failed at living, like my illness is somehow less legitimate.  But what does mental illness mean? Continue reading Changing Labels – Changing Thinking