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it is leaving our words unspoken
that has our throats feeling choked,
it is at this point in time
when setting your words free
may be the only means
to setting yourself
I have this darkness
Creeping up inside of me
One day it will reach my neck
Stopping the air flow
Silencing my screams
And I'll fall to the floor
Choking, gasping for air
But no one will hear
bloodKl0tz Sep 2
Im standing in front of a forest that is on fire
Rose colored glasses
The same tint as the flames
Theres deer fleeing, raccoon skittering into backyards
Growing red moss advancing on the trees
Blisters form on the pads of my hands and fingers
Something much bigger than the deer, is advancing
Its getting hard to breathe, my throat feels like it is on fire
Squirrels pair off, try to find their fleeing mates
Burning hair
Burning paws
Encumbered with fears
My home is charred and I cant go back
Only forward, fleeing forward with the shadowy unknown advancing in the forest behind me
Cherry May 31
How do I say hi?
How do I say no?

Can I tell her how I feel?
Won’t she say no?
She’ll say no.
I know she’ll say no.

I can’t go there.
Too many people.
Take a different route.
Avoid the light.

It feels tight in here.
You told me there wasn’t going to be many people here.

I’m not exaggerating.
I want to go home.
Let me go home.
I want to go home!

Living with anxiety can sometimes seem impossible. You can do it.
Lilith May 28
I want to unhouse this body,
tear up the floorboards of my flesh,
Allow the blood to seep out into the earth.
To break down to moss might be the most merciful thing I could do to
this prison of permanence that keeps me
above ground.

I am contamination,
I am illness housed in bone
slicing this skin to let the sickness seep out
to let the blood sink into the dirt
to return my borrowed body to the depths.
I never asked to be trapped
tied down in muscle and fat.
I am more corpse than corporeal
so bury me where I belong.

I have only felt joy while holding my breath.
The high of being denied oxygen makes me feel closer to you.
I crave your cold hands wrapping around my throat
ripping this skin open
letting me fall to pieces amongst the flowers.
At least the winds will whistle my name when I'm gone,
the sweet tune of the trees
soaking me in through their roots.

If I was not happy above the dirt,
let me fill these lungs with the funeral of the earth,
the carrion will make use of these remnants of skin
and I will be content to be cloaked and crowned in this castle of soil
CW: Implications of self harm
Chinia Apr 6
the angels are screaming in my ears. They’re warning me that there’s a forest fire roaring inside of me; the sweet alyssum that bloomed from the decaying memories I buried deep in my bones have burned into ash, revealing a fragile foundation that was created by scarred flesh and empty promises. I’m a pyre wrapped in a fiery rage that’s devouring my heart, igniting my lungs; inhaling the stench of smoldering melancholy, exhaling pain that resembles smoke from my cigarettes. I’m choking on my own corruption. My blood has turned into embers, keeping this fire growing louder.. a reminder that my misery will never be heard. my feet have become roots, digging into the earth that’s swallowing me like a decomposing animal; yet i will never be home, ill always be lost
home has never existed for me. i have a lot of thoughts I can’t get out, sorry if this is bad and doesn’t make sense. I never seem to make sense anymore
Lou Jan 18
Inside of your mind and body
A numbing occurs
You feel shallow
So shallow
Like a lowering tide
As if the oceans will dry up
Forcing you and the fish to choke on air

But at least you'll have something in common right ?
Amelia Sapp Dec 2019
reach out and choke
how dare you touch my neck
and my heart
Martin Horton May 2019
No Bumblebee.

No blackbird, swallow, swift or Robin.

No buttercups or poppies swaying in the breeze.

No hedgehog, weasel, stoat or mole

Almost silence.

Just one sound.

The sound of property developers chewing then choking on money.
This was inspired by two things. First, I walk past hedges when I walk my dog. Filled with sparrows. Now, they are gone. Torn up by diggers. Secondly, a book called The Last Wild by Piers Torday. A powerful book about the loss of our natural world.
Amanda Apr 2019
Your love to me is oxygen
And I need to breathe you in

Try to inhale you like I did at our start but it's not enough to put a beat in my heart

I cannot survive without you
Lungs choking on lonely despair
So can you explain to me why every time we kiss
I suffocate from lack of air?
Feeling some type of way
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