The speaker describes music as a drug, something taken to hold nightmares at bay. It works only while it plays. The moment the music stops, the fears rush back, and the speaker is left facing them again.
What stands out is how plain and repetitive the language is. "They haunt me / They won't stop / They won't go away" piles up short, blunt statements, almost like a chant, and the title repeats that same plea. The repetition makes the nightmares feel relentless and the speaker feel worn down. Calling music a "drug" is telling, too. It suggests the speaker depends on it, not purely for pleasure but as a way to cope, and that the relief is temporary and perhaps fragile.
The mood is anxious and tired, with a quiet desperation. The poem doesn't say what the nightmares are, which lets readers fill in their own fears. What comes through is the speaker's sense of being trapped, with silence as the thing they dread most.