"claustrophobia" poems
Flesh is heretic.
My body is a witch.
I am burning it.
Yes I am torching
ber curves and paps and wiles.
They scorch in my self denials.
How she meshed my head
in the half-truths
of her fevers
till I renounced
milk and honey
and the taste of lunch.
I vomited
her hungers.
Now the ***** is burning.
I am starved and curveless.
I am skin and bone.
She has learned her lesson.
Thin as a rib
I turn in sleep.
My dreams probe
a claustrophobia
a sensuous enclosure.
How warm it was and wide
once by a warm drum,
once by the song of his breath
and in his sleeping side.
Only a little more,
only a few more days
sinless, foodless,
I will slip
back into him again
as if I had never been away.
Caged so
I will grow
angular and holy
past pain,
keeping his heart
such company
as will make me forget
in a small space
the fall
into forked dark,
into python needs
heaving to hips and *******
and lips and heat
and sweat and fat and greed.
17.2k
Are all footy fanatics
Total raving lunatics?
The flag's in the bag!
We've got lively lads
The best we've ever had!
Peter Pans on ***
The flags that time forgot!
Footy finals fever,
Talk about dream weavers!
Footy finals phobia,
TV claustrophobia,
Why didn't we win,
Any old excuse again!
Footy fanatics,
Raving lunatics,
Footy finals fever,
Melbourne's dream weavers!
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 4:20 PM UTC
Citrus trees, tomatoes, and fertile soil
Garliconiongingersoy
and ant spray
Contentment
Cigarettes and hate
Aqua Net
White school paste
Bitter slimy spinach
and blue ditto ink
Confusion
Cigarettes and hate
Cigarettes and hate
Baseball glove
Mown grass
Fresh popcorn
Sadness
Cigarettes and hate
Cigarettes and hate
Cigarettes and hate
Cramped, stale cars
Claustrophobia and
Cat litter
Loneliness
Cigarettes and hate
Cigarettes and hate
Cigarettes and hate
Cigarettes and hate
Petroleum
Locker Rooms
and Perfume
Indifference
Cigarettes and hate
Cigarettes and hate
Cigarettes and hate
Cigarettes and hate
Cigarettes and hate
Smoggy skies
Salty beaches
Beer trucks at each end of the block
Love
And...
Blessed...
Divorce
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 3:13 PM UTC
We pretend,
We do it all the time.
Happy, aren't We?
We laugh:
big teeth, tight smiles.
Alone, aren't we?
Huge crowds:
masses, claustrophobia.
But who knows the truth
Our truths
Wide eyes, white grin
think for a second
I've wore a hole in my mind from thinking
Happy, aren't We?
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 4:14 PM UTC
I do not like the feeling of
examination,
of eyes burning on my back
as if you are a small match
and I am the bushfire
you wish to light...
I do not like the feeling of
obssessive observation,
I do not like privacy violation,
I do not like the feeling of claustrophobia,
I do not like claustrophobia because
it doesn't cease to exist by simply
removing ten people from one room.
I do not like claustrophobia because
sometimes your own mind is enough
to provoke a certain type
of wanderlust,
the kind where you run away
and leave everyone to rot and rust.
I do not like claustrophobia
because when I am alone,
it can never be enough alone,
it feels like the walls of my room
are breathing on my neck;
they're laughing at me,
declaring this poet insane,
it is the most crowded type of alone
until somebody, something
sedates my brain
and you call me "suggestive anxiety"
it's all in your head,
you're a game of chance
and I'm taking a guess;
you know my face but
you know nothing about my name.
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 11:29 AM UTC
Eyes are open, am I blind
do my arms not work, far they cannot extend
thump, thump
what am I touching, in what am I encased
what an odd sound, like rainfall but more menacing
what is that sound
I hear it above
starting to feel afraid, a dream this must be
air is growing thin, claustrophobia sets in
my nails begin to claw at whatever this force field may be
trapping me in my worst nightmare
bloodied, sore to no avail the trap holds well
hysteria next, screams, wails, laments
please God let me wake up
hours later, numb, deadened my empty eyes stare at the dark tomb
acceptance sets in with the realization
I've been buried alive
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 10:53 AM UTC
I would get lost
On a strange island,
Rather than be found,
Between walls I know.
I’d rather speak
Another language,
Than let native words
Form my last sentence.
I’d rather die
On a foreign soil,
Than spend all my life
Knowing only mine.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 10:50 AM UTC
I've walked into a tunnel.
Following coats,
Dragging behind in
Abandon
The light is slitted
The shape above is
Too Close to my head.
The sharp,
Undecided angles bother me
And a nervous twitch begins.
I imagine it like a funnel,
Sorting population
To pass through in
Close quarters,
Contact guaranteed.
I sneeze
And cough.
My fever smolders
Making my skin chill,
And the thought of disease
Enters, and crowds with me,
Suffocating me to one side-
But not too close-
Don't touch anything.
Fear grows.
I am already sick
But I could get sicker.
Conspiracy drips over my thoughts,
My fever leaving the
normal functioning funnel
In my mind
To be burned away-
materializing in the city-
Around me.
My thoughts bunch
In clusters
And pass all at once,
Leaving waves of nausea
And claustrophobia
As I continue through the tunnel,
Paranoia worsening my symptoms
By the step.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 7:11 PM UTC
A feeling of claustrophobia has begun to confine me.
This swamp of ideas thickens inside me, the murky clay mud making each step twice as demanding as the last. The once clear flowing waters of my dreams seem to be crystallizing, clouding and freezing over, ceasing the stream of my escape. My brain is callusing over incarcerating me, forcing me to experience the hardening of my own being. A reaction inside halting my imagination and depriving me of the ability to call out for help. These thoughts and words I evacuate onto this page only act as a catalyst speeding the process of my inevitable silence. There will come a time when the swamps have solidified, and the waters of my dreams become frozen clouded crystals trapped in place. My brain will develop into a callous, rendering my mind mute, I can feel this metamorphosis materializing yet there is nothing I can do to stop it, the development has already begun, all I can do is wait until a feeling of...
A feeling of claustrophobia has begun to confine me.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC
tight spaces
make me dizzy
tight spaces
with many people
will make me die
trains are okay
trains with lots of people
give me panic attacks more times than not
the fact
that i'm trapped
in a moving vehecle
with no means of getting down
until the next stop
which probably isn't my stop anyway
just *****
tight spaces
make me dizzy
but when you hug me tight
it's quite the opposite
it's like i want to live
in the small space between your hands and your chest
in a train full of people
i don't mind feeling the heat your body emits
amongts a hundred other people's which i don't particularly care for
you make the me dizzy
but the kind of dizzy
that makes me feel good
and safe
i don't like tight spaces
but i don't mind being in your room
about two of your wingspans in length
as long as you're right next to me
you make the panic attacks go away
please don't go away
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
Space is small:
Unnatural
Fear of
Faintness
Overcomes you.
Caged like
An animal
There you are.
Intake of breath.
Oxygen lacks.
Numb now you are.
Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 12:31 PM UTC
Claustrophobia confines me
Noise is muted
Time slows down
The sound of my racing heart fills the air
The world turns like a haunted merry-go-round
And my sight blurs
I gulp in stale air
The smell of mass body odour stings my nose
My palms are sweating
Fellow humans beside me turn into snarling aliens
My body shrieks at me to run
But the ground grabs my feet with clawed fingers
Panic is overwhelming common sense
I am losing my mind
A scream slowly rises to my throat
DING
The doors open
One sigh of relief
And my body gratefully flies out into freedom
Never again
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 4:37 AM UTC
right now i'm thinking
about angry older gals
at the supermarket,
i'm thinking: shave the bush,
start a razor "wildfire"...
let's see your neck and your
chin, shave off that beard...
the crazy much older than
your supermarket attendees
are dropping the word
viking while you shop
for whiskey, onions and
tomatoes,
even the security guard is
looking at you funny...
your excuse of:
i became bored of shaving
is not going to work
on these women,
in their late 50s,
making all the talk the talk
and the talk being
small talk and
trebling in: i really just came
in here for a purchase,
i don't have the ***** to
do the small talk...
of course that's always besides
the point...
viking?!
how about a
zimmer frame?
god, small talk kills me,
i don't know how to make a chair out
of it to sit on for much longer than
feel comfortable longer
than 5 minutes on it...
and there's always one of these women
in the supermarket,
she just knows small-talk -
kleinsprechen...
while i know the großsprechen -
alternatively: stille (silence);
but she just insists upon
her solipsisms,
and she does so perfectly,
she talks, and even manages to reply
for me...
at least a monologue of
a madman is less claustrophobic
when you spot a solipsistic woman in
her antics,
at least the madman in his
monologue feeds you not claustrophobia...
given he's so self-engrossed in
imaginative cursor workings...
a madman's monologue never
morphs into a solipsistic claustrophobia
intimidation, notably within the guise
of women...
i'd prefer a madman oblivious to
me in his externalised monologue,
than a woman in a supermarket,
oblivious to her solipsistic take on dialogue
intimidation by restraining the other
in a pseudo-claustrophobia;
that famous echo chamber...
please, throw me into the cushioned
room with a madman, i'd rather hear
his monologue,
than her attempt at
a dialogue in a supermarket!
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 10:33 PM UTC
All I want is to be naked
I wish to be vulnerable
I'm encased in a web of emotive calamity
Trapped in cold stone and empty waves
Locked in materialism,
Social apathy suffocates me
I need air...
From the womb of modernity,
Claustrophobia is born
I gasp
I need to feel free...
I need to be held...
I need to be exposed...
This musty cell of modern depravity,
Vanity,
Pride,
Self-seeking,
Commercialism,
Disregard,
Apathy,
Greed,
Hate...
It chokes me with the foul stench of death
The scent that tells me darkness falls
I can see no virtue in this prison
A veil is pulled upon me,
And I'm engulfed in merciless dissociation
I need to drink crisp waters
From the fountain of harmony
I need to be caressed
In the warm ***** of compassion
I need to soar
On the vigorous gales of freedom
I need to be...naked
Strip me of possession,
Unravel my desires,
Hold me in your arms,
And let us be naked together!
Cast off allure of material treasure,
Come embrace your human pleasure!
Somewhere outside this dark room
Over the stone walls that encompass us,
There is a light that sings to me
I can break the walls and burn the bridge,
Cast aside the past of ego
And lead us to a world of dreams
Would you follow me?
Would you break the shackles of your possession?
Cast aside the love of things,
Replace it with the things of love?
Have we drifted so far apart as a people
That we have no room to breathe?
I think not.
This prison of emotive distress,
This cage of idiosyncratic routine,
This lockdown hysteria of need,
It's merely a base from which to start
The distance between us all
Only leaves room for us to grow
I can see the walls break down,
The old facades are wearing thin,
And I'm peeling away the trappings
Of things I thought I knew
But knew I never truly wanted
With them, walls will break
With them falls the cage
And through the coming of the things I see so clear
Like love and peace and harmony
Nakedness and connectivity
(No need for greed,
No need for possession)
I can see the walls tear down
And with their fall I know it's coming:
The day where all are free to fly.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 2:32 PM UTC
Only four walls
They all drown me inside
The fear of no escape
My head begins to break
The walls trap my thoughts inside
I'm completely unable to hide
My anxiety strangles me
What if my claustrophobia finds me?
My legs begin to tremble as I'm stuck in this space
My heart begins to pound as my eyes see the crowd
I wish I could run but I can't find an escape
Now my fears holding me hostage with tape
I can't seem to move
I've become paralysed
My body starts to shake
My eyes see weird shapes
I'm trembling with fear
I feel my cheek wet with tears
Now I'm laying on the floor
My claustrophobia found me with it's claws
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 8:13 PM UTC
.it's called pronoun usage focused upon the experience of claustrophobia, or rather, the lack of... hence: one thinks in order for one to be... unus, cogito, unus se, per ergo; these people went after grammar... not a good idea; i've had my doubts... but... i also have my... rigid beyond religious orthodoxy credos... infringed upon denials! grammar is one of them!
well...
if we're going to go about our
verbiage as we've done...
pronouns...
sorry...
i have to do this...
or rather...
one has to resort to this...
one must think / hinge on such
matters...
one must execute such...
"inconveniences"...
one must, press on such
matters...
just so, one is able...
to counter the trans- pronoun usage...
with a royal,
pronoun usage;
happy?!
go on... two is able...
two think...
figure it out... tow along;
as a Nascar wreck...
because started thinking...
is pluralism intact
pluralism... on the basis of
an isolated instance of
a disfranchised base within
the confines of He... or She?
no?
well... the royal pronoun
intervention...
as one would expect...
or rather, as one would hope so...
hello?!
i think the lunatics have run
the asylum long enough...
their supposed asylum,
formerly known as society?
not good enough...
call the guys in the white coats
that... everyone seems to fear.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 8:22 PM UTC
The tragic sky,
Continues to intrude my every move.
Enveloping me in despair,
Luring me into darkness.
The gloomy buildings,
Stare me into terrible fright,
Judging me with furious anger.
The entire town is built upon claustrophobia,
Suffocating passersby.
12/01/2013
r.z.w.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 1:38 AM UTC
Claustrophobic in a world without limits
From the top of the ocean to the bottom of the sea
We fight for oxygen that is free.
We limit our brain and actions to something that is expected
Unexpectedness' is pleasant in the end
But that hasn't happened yet
Only to the ones that are strong enough to be soft spoken
And carry their heart through the woods
Even if it is broken.
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 12:10 AM UTC
I feel as though
I'm trapped--
stuck in a place i will
never escape from.
I'm unable to change anything
about everything
and I'm going to lose my mind.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 6:10 PM UTC
Beauty is the sky filled with dark clouds.
Beauty is the black birds swooning across the black sky.
Beauty is the moths rocketing themselves to their death.
Beauty is the cigarette smoke that has escaped my lungs.
Beauty is those amber red leaves falling from the trees.
Beauty is the claustrophobia that suffocates me when I'm alone in my bed.
Beauty is the phone that hasn't rung for months.
Beauty is the ***** of empty papers in the bin.
Beauty is the voices bleeding from your daily fights that have become white noises to my ears.
Beauty is the creature I see everytime I look in the mirror.
Beauty is the cruel daggers that you whisper into my ears.
Beauty is the blisters on my knuckles I got from punishing the wall for your sins.
Beauty is the scratches on my arms.
Beauty is the pills that numb the pain in my soul.
Beauty is Morpheus,the only friend who's around to help me through the torments of my life.
Beauty is the razor that has been hiding in the mess on my desk for months now.
Beauty is death herself.
Beauty is life.
Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 9:04 AM UTC
You remind me
of a wet New York,
a summer of oily
lights on the roads,
of concerts in the park
and the white, loving claustrophobia
in the sky,
you remind me
of standing at a window
fourteen floors up
watching cars on FDR
in the darkness,
hoping that one of them
is yours,
you remind me of
sirens
always, you remind me
of
a confidante
in an alleyway
stale with garbage
always,
you remind me
of subways
and dark knowledge the length and width
of a city
always, you remind me
of crossing a bridge
over grey water
and pewter boats.
It is hard for me to let go
of the city
even as it dampens
in the slate rain;
and the stretched clouds
are pulled down
over the highrises of love.
Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 10:57 AM UTC
My heart beats frantically
Nerves tingling
My breathing, fast
Heart threatening to explode
His look pierces me
Their expectant faces
Judging my very being
Expecting me to fail
So why not let me be?
This dark secret can be kept
No one has to know
Stop insisting
But I have to say it
Then a thought rises,
I can lie
And they will never know
No one bothers to understand
They just want to ridicule
I won't give in
I am not their jester.
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 6:04 AM UTC
When I try to sleep, I remember all my fears,
And every mistake I've made in the past five years.
My heart feels heavy, alone in a crowded room.
Suffocating claustrophobia, will this be over soon?
This is exhausting, trying to win this fight.
Hand over mouth, nothing's felt so right.
I'm running out of breath, I can't make this climb.
Chasing down the clock, seems I'm out of time.
First cut, not always the deepest.
Watching in the mirror, I dont wanna miss this.
In debt, I guess you can say that I owe you.
All these years, still can't say that I know you.
Close your eyes, tell me I hit close to home.
Lie to my face, I'm tired of feeling all alone.
Always changing, why do I feel the same?
Pointing fingers, I know I'm to blame.
Tell me you care, don't cut all ties.
Don't lose focus, I'll find some truth in your disguise.
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 9:12 AM UTC