"athazagoraphobia" poems
once we were close.
once our heads would rest on
each other's as we laughed
and you would absentmindedly
reach out and push my hair out
of my eyes.
we would sit on the floor and I
would hug my legs to my chest and
you would absentmindedly drape
your arm over my knees and I
would cross my ankles over yours
and our fingers would lock
like children's, in a fairy tale.
we had a fairytale friendship.
you used to believe in fairies.
every once in a while you would
look me in the eye and I could tell
by the sparkle of depth, the richness of
brown, that you were going to say
something serious
'I'm glad we met
me too, friend. I'm glad I met you, too.
mm. what if I had never said that.
you'd regret it.
that's why I'm glad you're you
because I wouldn't have.
but I wanted to.
repeating after you
might not have been enough.
but every once in a while even you
would surprise me and you would
glance me over and hug me close
I'm glad you exist
I'm glad you exist too,
I'm glad for you.
like a child in a fairytale
stuttering over words, fumbling,
blind kitten
echoing you
with the hope
that you will hear the echo
in everything you say
so that when I am
forgotten you can catch
my voice on the breeze,
the echo, and you can remember
to pull down our dusty
fairytale storybook
from the shelf.
forgetting is the worst part
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 5:46 PM UTC
Yes I heard and cried
knowing that you have died
in the midst of that ******
sinful ruckus of Nagasaki
but fate is no longer great
tip-toed twinkle of a pathetic
plunge over the dying Sakura
I have not changed for years but
you, you have changed
for the romance, for the sanity
of your everlasting dance.
Fatal, it is fatal, they said.
Denial, it is a denial, I said.
The balloon has escaped for years
and it can only haunt us for years,
but now,
The balloon waved at me
as I was caught red-handed
by an atomic, stoic handshake
drowning athazagoraphobia,
so I left the *** unattended
and I wander for a sweet end
in Misaki, Sennichimae,
calm, youthful exuberance I love
I no longer remember
the lasting kisses
that she left,
as a soliloquy in May.
I am lost in the wildest dream
of an eternal existence.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 7:18 AM UTC
After you left it lasts for a week
those pleaded and weep
I've done everything to keep
but still you left and now I am weak.
No text, no call
no you after all
I think you've forgotten me I don't understand
I've got this fear now that I cannot stand
I am no longer open for companions,
I don't even take everyone's opinions
I don't talk I thought doubtly
I think they'll just reject me.
I don't even talk to who's not committed
Cause I have this fear now of being rejected
I am now sealed with this fear
Be forgotten by a person eventhough I love for real.
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 6:04 AM UTC
Walking down a hallway, I hear my name. No windows or doors, no distinction between floor and ceiling.
But my name.
Etched in the walls in every medium you could imagine: from pencil to pastel to acrylic to crayon. My name. All around me on these sullen walls, this repeated name over and over, all blue. So close in hue you almost couldn't see them. But you could, and as you read them they mocked you. As if they were saying,
'Why are you here..?'
The walls are closing in, this space is just too small. I don't know where to run, it's endless in every direction. I close my eyes and fall. In past dreams if you fall, you wake up before you meet the ground.
I didn't wake up.
The pain comes immediately, skid marks down my legs and blood falling out the scrapes. Head pounding, shoulder throbbing, running down the street. I fell into this city and I'm looking for you. I know you're here because you're in love with this place. I know you're here because you're you. I know you're here because I know you.
I run.
My vision gets blurry and this city starts to spin. Pass one street and the next, and the next, and the next.. Finally a familiar place, I feel the rush of knowing you're near. I'm getting closer. You haven't talked to me in weeks, I haven't seen you in months, I feel something running down my face. Memories that hurt more than the injury. I see that house and those cars in the yard, run up the walk and open the door. I don't even make it past the threshold as my face hits the floor. Injuries from the fall finally became critical.
I wake up and I see a ceiling. A pale sickly white, the walls are the same color. Then the pain starts to come. Slow hurt in my face from falling and falling again, my arm throbs in a cast, and I look to my right to see a blood bag along with an IV. The blood makes me nauseous and I hear a noise to my left, a person. Someone gets up and holds my hand, looks at me with shining eyes and tear streaked cheeks. I wipe one away with my casted arm, sending shooting pain into my spine. This persons appearance is unfamiliar, but they show me love like I've never seen or experienced before, the look in their eyes tells me I'm everything to them. I look at those eyes, and memories come to surface. Laughter, comfort, love, hurt, reconciliation, happiness. There's pain in my back and I involuntarily flinch, breathing and hoping for the pain to go away. It gets worse as my lungs start to hurt, my heart beats faster as I realize I'm scared. I look back up to find you still won't take your eyes off mine, and I finally figure it out. It's you. You run out in search of a nurse before I can open my mouth, and as my eyes close darkness takes over and pulls me under.
When I woke up alone I was the one with the tear stained cheeks.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 12:49 AM UTC
The fear of being forgotten
is as foul as it is true
But worse still
is the thrill
you feel when you're remembered
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
And we will feel sorry for ourselves because our bodies do not know where to go now,
We are just ghosts without a set of bones to haunt,
And when the sirens sound and everyone is boarding the emergency boats, we will not move,
And we will sink with the ship,
And we will float to the bottom of everything
Weren’t we so beautiful then, when our eyes could burn holes into the sun,
When our tears could grow gardens,
And weren’t we so indifferent to sadness then,
I can still see the look on your father’s face, a decade ago, when he was holding you in that photograph,
Everything around you was like a wildfire,
And I would still welcome the burns with open arms because I know heartbreak gives way to success regardless, I just wish success meant a way to not be forgotten
We are so busy mending our brokenness that we forget to love one another,
And we are guilty by association to the circumstances we create for ourselves,
Strangers,
I never thought I’d feel this much for a stranger,
I never thought that we’d be strangers,
I’m just glad we had plenty of time to eat our hearts out
And I’m sure there are wine bottles in my kitchen for every letter in your name and I am sure that I could drink all of them and still remember your name,
And I will bury your memories inside of someone else and I am sure they will be just like you
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 4:49 PM UTC
i'm losing my best friend to a completely shallow cold hearted gripe who isn't worth anyone's time.
and it's eating away at me more than the maggots that have begun to appear inside my slowly withering soul.
my greatest fear is showing it's ugly face again - the fear of being forgotten.
athazagoraphobia- the fear of being forgotten or replaced.
forgotten. replaced.
easily.
you said you'd be there for me.
but you're going to forget me like all the other ******** did. you're going to get rid of me like every other person who has ever actually meant something to me.
you were no different.
you were the exact same.
you're just another page in my journal now.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 7:45 PM UTC
What is he?
Fear...yes, definitely fear
Not just the weak and wobbly anxiety that feasts on the insides
But the kind that stands up and paints a bright
Confidence over it, masking the emptiness
The kind that fills him over others
There are many fears
Athazagoraphobia
Autophobia
Separation anxiety
It's just who he is
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 3:05 AM UTC
How long will it take,
for you to notice?
How long will it take,
for you to find me?
I am sitting in a box,
with a pretty red ribbon,
waiting for you.
But you don't even say hello.
I want you to find me,
because I will never have the courage,
to find you.
Please, find me.
I sit in a corner,
all on my own.
I think of you,
until I realize.
I realize that I deserve recognition.
I deserve gratitude.
I'm not being self-centered,
and I'm not being rude,
all I'm saying,
is that I want you.
And I wish,
that you would want me,
too.
I have always feared,
that I would die,
alone.
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 10:25 PM UTC
One.
The blade across my scarred skin
Dull and rusted
It a long ago friend I fear to see
But everyone keeps tempting me
The glances, the words, the whispered phrases
They play through my ears like broken music none can bear
But bear it, I must
For I fear the blade with its ****** rust
Two.
Athazagoraphobia
Drowning in a room of people
Alone and forgotten
I struggle for air as I sit alone
Wondering what I have done to be cast out on my own
Like a boulder, the depression weighs on on me
Why can't you see!?
I fear, my dear, you have forgotten me
Three.
A white face and a black cloak
A skeletal hand around my throat
A laugh that chills my weary being
And endless pits that stare at me
Your hands are acid as you carry me to Hell
While no one can hear my stangled yell
Not a thing, but a person, alas
I fear, yet crave, Death's burning grasp
Four.
The ****** hands taunt me
And her hollow gaze holds me
This undead girl is Hell itself
Placed her to torture me
Not a day goes by without her presence
Nor a thought through my head without her acceptance
She controls everything I see
Cuts me and laughs as I bleed
Yet, no one understands when I plead and plead
For, you see, my greatest fear is me
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 3:11 PM UTC
I've always had problems with long words.
Still I can easily pronounce - Athazagoraphobia.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 4:22 AM UTC
I sat in the bathroom,
tears streaming down the slides of my face,
the cool floor
turning me cold blooded.
I stayed for hours,
Nobody came.
Blood isn't family.
Jun 24, 2017
Jun 24, 2017 at 1:13 AM UTC
Oh, I think I spoke too much again
The words flew and my mind didn't keep pace
You don't need to hear that, you don't need to fix my problems
It doesn't matter, it's far too late; now my heart starts to race
You must see me as a fool
After all, I'm not much more than the product of my errors
I care so much about you, but all I do is mess things up
When did I start to shake? Suddenly I notice the building terror
You know so much about me
I've never shared some of the things you've heard
Yet for some reason you still accept me, still waste your time on me
One side of my brain insists you hate me, the other says that's absurd
Every time we talk, I wonder if it'll be the last
Eventually you'll realize that I'm not worth the words that roll off your tongue
You'll leave and never look back; I'm no good for you, I know that
Besides, sometimes I'm just too high-strung
I'm possessive and too obsessive
You're relaxed and laid back
While I panic you kick your feet up and settle in
I wish I was different; why can't I stop feeling like I lack?
When I pour out my heart, does it touch yours?
You don't even know that I've cried at the thought of losing you
I just want to know your heart like I know mine
Maybe then I'd see that you care about me too
I'm way too naive, I own that
I need constant reassurance, I know that
You'll find someone better than me, I guarantee that
One day you'll forget me, I fear that
Can you hear me cry out?
I'm begging for a promise
Not for this to last forever, not for anything long-term
Only that you don't leave me hurting when it's over
Now that your name has gone dark I'm left wondering
Will we ever speak again? I don't want to lose you, you're like a four-leaved clover
I can't sleep, my words linger in my head; did I mess it all up?
Next time, can we start over? Before it's over?
Can we start over?
Sep 8, 2019
Sep 8, 2019 at 1:58 AM UTC
Athazagoraphobia,
The Fear of being forgotten,
The Fear of being replaced,
The Fear of being ignored,
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 5:41 AM UTC
Somethings are better off forgotten
for they never belonged to you
Somethings are better left untold
for there were none
Somethings are better when suppressed with tears
for nobody cares
Somethings are better left untouched
for nobody else does
Learn the art of letting go and pretending
that you have forgotten
Learn to start forgetting with the flow or
else you will die before you are dead
Jul 27, 2020
Jul 27, 2020 at 3:07 AM UTC