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bloodKl0tz Sep 11
My legs are heavier than I am used to,
Except it feels so familiar,
I think this happens every night when I try to run in my dreams,
And its like forcing each step forward through thick syrup
Hardening wet concrete
A rapidly thickening slurry coating me.

I am weighed down by it, down on my knees now, hoping that grabbing the ground and pulling myself forward will increase my momentum
Ripping out handfuls of grass trying to get the earth to treadmill beneath me
Clay under my nails, more slurry, more layers,

The earth is a part of my lungs now
Wet pink webbing hardening from the outside in
Thin tendrils brittle and breaking off, sun-dried,
Cracking and dusty and making its way up my throat
A river bed of mud consuming the space in my mouth,
I reach in with my fingers and scoop out the muck and throw it but it keeps coming,
Filling and refilling my mouth, faster than my fingers can dig it out
Thick like dentist's putty, coating my tongue and teeth like taffy

The fear is always there
The fear mixed with the drowning feeling, drowning in wet clay,
Suffocating and afraid
That it will still be the same even when I wake up
Simone13 Aug 14
Its your fault
I am like this
My obscured creature
Fabricated from one another

I renounce you
For stealing my reflection
The familiarity crept
in the blackened skin of my eyes

From the disrupted nightmares
As you shriek next to me
a poisoned trace disseminating my mind

You drink the acid in my sternum  
Seething waves in my stomach

You blow the wind
for my shaking bones
producing silence
from an untouched note

We cant escape one another
your tallons sink deeper
clutching my suffocation
as a life source

You are nothing
But a fabrication I can’t ****
Without sinking
Living with anxiety, is almost like living with a person living off your suffering
isabella Jul 21
My greatest enemy,
Silence. My most wonderful dream,
Silence.

Silence that hangs like a thread,
Silky, soft, bound to break.

Silence that wraps around you,
A warm blanket of comforting.

Silence that wakes you,
Awash in that moonlight glow.

Silence that defines you,
Fiber, soul, essence, and heart.

Silence that you wish would just,
Stop being so deafening.

Silence that suffocates,
Then lets you breathe.

Silence that opens a window,
More than your eyes ever could.

Silence that makes me afraid,
Lifts you up on angel-like wings.

Silence that is too short, too long,
Too silence-y.

Silence, that doesn't sound like a word,
Until you hear it.

Silence that sits there,
Waiting, wondering, thinking.

Silence in the darkness,
The most comfortable moments,
And the scariest.

I've never learned how to be silent,
In the proper way,
Until I met you.

You, who uses silence,
You, who knows silence,
You, who is silence.

I can't say I know you,
But I know silence,
Around you,
Lying together,
Arms tangled.
Smiling in
Silence.
Mrs Timetable May 25
Why plant
A fragile heart
In the wrong place
Setting it up
To suffocate
Like a tulip
In a xeriscape
BLT word of the day “xeriscape”
Poetic T Apr 10
We weather the storm of thought and retrospection,
            our words are metaphors of our daily lives..

Some light like a candle others like space a flickering
with  no warmth,

But swallowed by the darkness,
               awaiting its last breath.

Suffocated by the glass held in waiting,

                  for it to drown in its own fumes.
hold me
in the dead of night
when no one else will

wear me
a rusted red bangle
choke my freedom

spare me
when angels are around
consume me when
they fly

float from
the mouths of those
who say they
love me

i trust no other voice
but your shrieking
whisper

they tell me they
love me
they tell me
you tell me
tell me
love me
a poem about needing constant reassurance - and how loneliness can make you doubt the legitimacy of even those who love you the most
Did your body not warn you
before you were wrung dry?

The day you found yourself depleted,
the nights that lead upto it became fragile,
your cell heavy as they were heaved onto the bed.

Did you not listen to your body,
when you woke up with a heavy chest
and your body begged you to sleep?

Did you not acknowledge your heart
when it had become
a black hole the night before
as it ****** you out in.
Your bones like gravestones
prominent among the barren skin.

Did the suffocating dark matter
not ring louder
as you gasped for air with burnt lungs.

When you stood there overworked,
with signals mixed and sensitive
rewired and tangled
did the response fit their norm of you?

Did your voice not thud,
with the lump in your throat?
Did your heart not pound
against your ribcage,
your stomach not curdle
with that war in your chest,
as your mind raced
and your chest pressured as you tried
to clutch that breath?

Did your hormones
not muddle with your thoughts?
Did they not drown them in depths
and set them on fire all at once?
Did it not ache your muscles
before it all turned red?

Did your body not scream
when they came near?
Your feet cemented,
as your body froze?
Did your gut not twist
till you felt nauseous?

Did your toes not curl
when the feeling sunk
through your spine,
sat in your bones
like an unwanted guest,
and you like an unwilling host?

Did you not feel the chill
shiver down your spine
as terror spread across your face
and painted it white
before the quake came?

Did you not acknowledge
your body is the vessel
that you kept giving and pushing
depleting it of the right to rest
rather than opening
it to the abundance of love
it was surrounded by.

Your body became over extended,
your mind became forgetful
a body that is now a red flag;
travesty.
- SabilaSiddiqui ©
Poetic T Feb 2
If words could weep,  
           mine would be rivers

And the sentences would be
           a deluge on my

emotions.

We all drown,
but its our choice
   which tide we try to

fight against.

How will we drown...
Marietta Ginete Dec 2019
It’s like hands around my throat,
or plastic around my head.
It’s suffocating with the words I wrote,
and the ones I had never said.
the tension in the air is unbearable.
Anora Emporium Sep 2019
there's a haze over her eyes
smoke fills her lungs
but instead of suffocating
she breathes in deeply
from the kiss of another
one whom she promised not to love
one who will be gone in three months
perhaps the only one she couldn't stand and yet simultaneously couldn't stand without

when his lips touch hers
it tastes of honey
and home
she laps each one up
addicted to the feeling
of sugar pouring down her throat
a lifeline connected to the sweet nectar
that feeds her very being
it swirls with the smoke
leaving a bittersweet taste on her tongue
for she is addicted to a love
that has a pre-defined ending.
I know I won't be able to handle the dead end:
when I finally crash into it, pummelling at the pace of a thousand winning horses, with the verocity of mountainous waves smashing against the rock face,
without a doubt
I'll be left
completely unrecognisable.
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