"hypersensitive" poems
Take your pills, open wide
Swallow it with your pride
It’s a cure, overdose
Keep your head down and your mouth closed
We’re so
We know
We’re shallow
I know
You can call it narcissism
You can blame it on materialism
Our delusions, indecision
Children of the Great Recession
Update status
Pop a Xanax
There was texting
Now we’re setxing
We have the gall to have a sense
Of undeserved entitlement
We’re over educated and unemployed
Apathetic and annoyed
We’re so
We know
We’re shallow
I know
You can call it narcissism
You can blame it on materialism
Our delusions, indecision
Children of the Great Recession
Pictures reblogged
Arteries clogged
Kandi kids
Digital natives
Anxiety, can’t concentrate
As obesity permeates
What will happen? Time will tell
And remind us of Y2K and when the towers fell
We’re so
We know
We’re shallow
I know
You can call it narcissism
You can blame it on materialism
Our delusions, indecision
Children of the Great Recession
Lets the bass drop
Generation lost
It’s hard to live
When you’re hypersensitive
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 5:30 PM UTC
While tufts of gloom engulfing the sky,
With no space and time between
Us, you and I,
soak ourselves in the stationary delight.
Like a hypersensitive scheme,
Yet an irreconcilable vibe,
You smoke, and I sigh.
While others argue to be or not to be,
You and I, standing in front of Robert Frost’s fork
—to smoke or sigh
Without hesitation,
You choose to hold a cigar in hand,
I choose to release an unknown in mind,
And sigh.
We then, ask each other why
You say, if you ever woke up in evisceration,
You would quit smoking
I say, if I ever woke up in nonentity,
I would stop sighing
Basking in the glow of flickers,
Inhaling the essence of meteoric laughters,
We look into each other’s assuring eyes
—I respect your choice,
as much as you respect mine.
Palpably, we’ve educed a compromise
It’s neither you smoke, nor I sigh.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 5:11 AM UTC
Everyone is a joke
Says the clown
Her mother has lung cancer
Crack a joke
He's crying because I bullied him
Crack a joke
He killed himself a week later
Crack a joke
Hysteria
Loud blowhard laughter
Bulging blood-shot tear-filled eyes
Butterflies eating your intestines-
Serious nothing.
Everyone's always your plaything
You say it's because you're Albanian.
Male.
Because you just-dont-care.
Because we're all stupid.
Hypersensitive.
That's a cop out-
I think,
You're just a clown.
Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 7:28 PM UTC
let's not make this mercy killing into a tragedy
if you mourn, i'll recover my grip on reality
realize what i've done
and i can't handle that responsibility
i accepted my fate the first time i lost my mind
knew i'd forever be stuck outside my head
fought for a few years more,
but now i'm done with this
i will fall like the primaveral rain,
soak the earth with my brittle rotting bones
let the flesh decompose
ease my mind, cleanse my soul
tangled up in vacillation
mania-white staining indigo perceptions
the future never seemed so trivial
(who said i couldn't live like this)
wide-eyed, selectively hypersensitive
i'm ignoring what lies ahead
i don't want to think about it
i'm destroying what little chance i had left
precipitation replacing perspiration,
erasing perspective,
drowning out my voice of reason
just let me breathe
cause i'm so sick of responsibility
this is just the cycle of life
perspective's leeching the necrosis
from my bones
i will be reborn as a lesser being
so for now just let me
pretend that the flames are home.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 2:51 AM UTC
it's been a couple years now
ever since my best friend died
and although it's no justification
for my behavior
it is the reason
the reason i've lost all my friends
the reason i'm barely in contact with anyone
i'm so cold hearted
i used to have an empathetic heart
but now i'm just cruel
i hurt those around me
even people that i don't even know
i act out
it's scary
my mood changes so quickly
i'm hypersensitive
every little word muttered in my direction
whether it be a small observation
or a simple critique
i feel the need to defend myself and attack
i am always in the mind set
of thinking that everything is a war
i never fail to pick fights
the low blows and the jabs
i'm cheap
i don't play fair
i'm a bad person
because i just don't care
i deserve nothing and nobody
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
My cause of death won't be
A physical ailment
I won't have a heart attack
I won't get heart disease
I won't be plagued with cancer
I won't die of old age
The cause of my death will be
The fact that I give all of myself
I stop whatever it is I'm doing
To help those around me
I listen to and advise my friends
I assist my family
While no one does that for me
I am left alone 99% of the time
The cause of my death will be
The fact that I must internalize
Whatever emotions I feel
Because nobody understands
How deeply they go
They judge me and find me crazy
There is no one out there
Who is as equally emotionally strung
I am alone
The cause of my death will be
The fact that when I get sick
Or when I am hospitalized
Like I was earlier this month
No one seems to think it's a big deal
My mother doesn't pay much mind
Not even the one I'm in love with
Said one word to me
I was alone
The cause of my death will be
The fact that I don't see hope for the future
I see ignorance all around me
I see laziness and poverty
I don't see any opportunities
For me to get out of this place
I am wandering aimlessly
And alone
The cause of my death will be
The fact that I hate myself
For allowing my heart and my soul
To break as they both have
I am hypersensitive
I feel abandoned
I am weak and fragile
Even in a crowd of people
I always feel alone
No, I will not die from something physical
I will die from a broken heart
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 9:25 AM UTC
Google defines detach as--
"disengage (something or part of something)
and remove it."
But Google could never tell me
how to detach myself
from the feelings that
consume me
and swallow me whole.
I'm not being irrational.
I'm not blowing things out of proportion.
I'm not overreacting.
I'm not being dramatic.
I'm not being hypersensitive.
Before pointing your fingers at me,
I want you to look at yourself.
Do you have empathy?
Do you realize these bad things can happen?
You may not say the words you speak
with the intent to hurt
but that is exactly what you're doing.
Stop ******* dancing around the problem,
like it's this fun thing to do.
Violation.
Tears shed.
Screams.
Hands on a body that isn't theirs.
Pain.
Blame where it doesn't belong.
This is reality
and you have no right
to decide how this story goes.
I ask you to step back
and think about the ways
in which you are impacting others.
If I can't detach myself,
neither can you.
******* talk.
Say words that mean something.
Speak the truth.
This is painful.
I refuse to let you pretend
as if it's not.
This is all I think about.
Unfasten, disconnect, separate, remove.
Pull off, free, disengage, loosen.
I wish I could.
I really do.
But there's nothing that can make this
go away.
I feel the walls closing in.
My breaths are shorter.
Tears.
I want to escape
but you can't escape
your own feelings,
your own pain.
It must be nice to
de
tach.
How lucky
you are.
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 4:36 PM UTC
You carried the scent of a heavy summer rainfall with you
everywhere you went,
dropping hurricanes from your pockets for strangers
who have only known spring showers.
I didn’t know it was possible to fall in love with a storm.
Every time your cloudless eyes met mine
I felt a swell in the back of my throat,
as if I had drank too much seawater and you just kept staring
until I began to cough up the entire
Pacific Ocean.
You told me that this is what it meant to be with you,
to be with a nihilist.
You held other worlds on your fingertips
and slipped them under my tongue,
my blood becoming bellicose within it’s own veins.
The parabola of my pupils stretched until they became quasars,
I had never known energy like this before.
Your lips twitched into a most complacent grin at my lack
of self-possession as I writhed in the rapacious wake of the river.
Everything around me shimmered
with the light of 1,000 stars
and I heard centuries of music in your laughter.
I was a foreigner in a different world.
That night we made love with the intensity
of 50 lightning bolts striking an erupting volcano
and it was the first time you told me you loved me.
It was the only time you meant it.
We anesthetized each other so much
that you became insusceptible
while I became hypersensitive.
You carved kisses into my skin
and they were wonderful
but I was starting to bleed out.
But you couldn’t even feel my nails
as I tried to dig my way into your heart.
I had never wanted to live inside a person so badly,
but you can’t make homes out of people.
You can’t make homes out of addicts.
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 10:46 PM UTC
happiness is different for everyone
when two lovers glittering irises have a rendezvous
after being a part for too long
when fingertips paint masterpieces on hypersensitive,
empty rib cages that forgot what it was like
for touch to make love with skin
when the sweltering, sultry coffee cools and
you feel more alive when you greet the bottom
of the porcelain mug with your satisfaction
when favorite seasons embrace the earth
{snow sleeps on eyelashes}
{the rain wakes us, reminds us to dance underneath it and laugh}
{sunshine warms us and summons freckles to decorate our shells}
{autumn addresses us to appreciate beauty and cycles}
lighting scented candles that your resting loved one always adored
when small children receive the attention from too busy parents
that are missing essential moments in their lives
purchasing things you don't need just to forget that you aren't
getting what you need that can't be bought
when the struggling find the remedy and relief
that they gave up hoping for and deciding:
"maybe i'll live a little longer"
"love a little harder"
"hold on a little tighter"
maybe the toxicity at the end of a ***** *** or whiskey bottle
where slurred answers are foggy and misleading
or perhaps quickly swallowing drugs without anyone seeing
so you can escape the demons that fight in your head
and prevent you sleeping when dusk surrounds you by
hiding beneath your bed
when the soldier saves their friend from the grasps
of death and prays to a god that they don't believe in
maybe happiness is the alleviation of hardship
or the state of mind that varies
whatever it is, cherish it and remember:
happiness is different for everyone
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 11:52 AM UTC
Walking home,
a girl in an orange
of a shirt and long
bell-bottoms
with a small protuberant
***
turned around to look at me.
Her eyes were large,
and the way she looked at me
was a question almost:
Are you dangerous?
Maybe, she wasn't looking at me,
maybe the breeze kicked up,
and she just wanted to shield herself.
But I don't know,
something in the way
she looked at me,
The quick stoicism
of her large blue eyes,
shocked into a quick
heavy moment of recognition:
black guy.
hoodie.
black baggy pants.
the scowl.
I knew that soon her eyes
would wiggle out of there sockets
and dangle behind her
always looking back
even as she kept moving forward.
The illusion of moving forward.
I felt like the black guy
the news tells you about,
the one that's dangerous
to all lonely white females
at 9:00 at night,
as his tongue lolls
and his head wags.
Maybe,
I'm being too sensitive.
Maybe,
I'm being hypersensitive.
Why is it
that whenever I see a white female
walking towards me at night
I cross the street?
Nov 21, 2011
Nov 21, 2011 at 9:22 PM UTC
Word spoke in malice,
turn to silver as they roll off the tongue maniacally.
Intention of a depraved notion swivel backward in their motions.
Evil succumbing to the power of provocation.
The sin and burden of wrathful anger trickled down into one simple action.
An act of devotion...
The willful way of degradation.
Hypersensitive reaction to the extraction.
Asking to be acquitted of your transgression...
How does a Devil ask an Angel to condone such an act of wickedness?
Trespassing on unhallowed ground, and living within a ****** lie.
The error of time...
Feathers of white on a whim of a demon.
When does the madness of your demise separate oneself from the act of humanity.
In death?
Or in the will to live?
These question have been asked from the beginning of time.
The answer are yet, still to be found.
Find solace within yourself.
Stop letting the sins of others weigh into uneven hands.
They're not your's to own or to even know.
In lieu the knowledge I have bestowed.
Go forth and live your life.
Happy, peaceful and in the never ending search of grace.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
about 250 years ago
young Johann Wolfgang Goethe’s tale of Werther’s
passionate unfulfilled love and ensuing suicide
triggered a wave of suicides across all Europe
the author was more than embarrassed
it is reported he was actually quite shocked
by this effect of his romantic writ
from then on he avoided the portrayal
of hypersensitive romantic youths
with their emotional entanglements
and often fatal ends
and preferred dramas of the simpler sort
like the eternal fight of good and evil
the striving for almightiness and universal knowledge
dilemmas of obedience and command
et cetera
today, like then, young people
go through the stifling pains of unrequited love
and feel they hover at the brink of the abyss
ready to jump
then, as today, young Werther’s suicide
is nothing but a waste of youthful life
that could have brought him many happy moments
had he allowed himself to stay alive
Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 3:22 PM UTC
You fool
Yes I know
That it’s unfair
How lovely it feels
To have another
Human being
Another woman if we’re specific
Another sin
To be pressed against your body
Yes I know that’s what it feels like, you fool
How could I not?
You fool
Yes I know
How sickly wonderful it feels
To capture their lovely lips
They’re kissing soft and gentle lies
That seem so
Perfect
That they must be illegal
Like some sort of unknown treachery
I know that’s what it feels like, you fool
How could I not?
You fool
Yes I know
That it’s unfair
How distortedly gorgeous
All those other women are
Like a **** unlawful drug
Hallucinogenic and hypersensitive
Able to light your senses on fire
With just a taste
I know that’s what it feels like, you fool
How could I not?
You fool
Yes I know
That it’s unfair
I know that’s what it feels like, you fool
How could I not?
I too have
Indulged in that pleasure
And now I lead an
Ever tasteless life because
That pleasure will always be a
Sin
Jun 27, 2011
Jun 27, 2011 at 5:46 PM UTC
I'm starting to think that it's rare to find someone who doesn't have a piece of their heart left in someone else's hands that maybe there is no such thing as a true love just the love that comes last just the love that nobody else has to try to one-up I'm starting to think that maybe my dad is still in love with my mom and his new wife doesn't mind because maybe when you get older you realize that there is no such thing as wholeheartedly loving someone only loving them with the pieces that are left and maybe my girlfriend is still in love with her best friend because I saw the way he looked at her and I tried not to be jealous when they went off on their own at that party and I heard a girl say that she calls their relationship "complicated" and what the hell does that make me am I the complication and I'm trying not to be jealous but I've never made her laugh like he does and I'll probably never know her like he does and maybe all I can hope for is for her to love him from afar and love me up close maybe he is her house back in Mississippi and I am her new apartment maybe if she puts up curtains it will feel more like home I cannot explain the aching I felt in my chest when my last boyfriend said I reminded him of his ex it feels like the piece of my heart he was holding starting bleeding like maybe an artery sprung a leak because I am like her but not quite she is mural and I am replica she is mountain range and I am photograph she is morning walks on the beach and I am jar of sand I knew he was in love with her I could tell by the way he said her name after he ****** me I thought maybe second best was good enough I thought maybe if I do my make up like she does he will call me pretty today the ****** up part is that it worked the sad part is he didn't know why it hurt so bad maybe I am just hypersensitive maybe my girlfriend only loves him as a friend maybe by complicated she meant he loved her but she couldn't love him back but that's what I've been saying about that boy that said he loved me I keep telling myself I don't love him but on lonely nights he is the one I want to talk to he is always there in the back of my mind I wear his jacket when I want to feel safe because my girlfriend will probably never know me like he does maybe I will love him from afar and love her up close maybe he is my house before my dad moved out and she is his new place maybe if I hang up some paintings it will feel more like home I cannot explain the aching I felt in my chest when he said he loved me
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 2:40 AM UTC
The rudest awakening,
Alarm clock beckons.
From bliss to reality,
in two nasty seconds.
Early winter mornings,
an unnatural time.
So dark and depressing
is this great British clime.
The air is freezing.
The heating is broken.
It's to this Baltic ********
that I am awoken.
Skin's hypersensitive
and lights are too bright.
Noises too noisy,
Take me back to the night.
Forced out of bed,
and all just for money.
But as everyone knows,
no money, no honey.
Sep 12, 2019
Sep 12, 2019 at 1:11 AM UTC
I was on a train out of Chorley
Happy to be sad to be leaving
Smalltalking strangers with a great accent
Hot and uncomfortable because my super cool leather jacket wasn't breathing.
Lancashire, you've made me think!
Actually, trains make me feel pensive.
Or was it Mrs Barton?
Bumbling and hypersensitive (in a nice way)
"Remain vigilant through your journey"
"Do not leave your heart unattended or it may be destroyed"
We'll get into Cardiff at zero zero six teen
That's technically Friday; there'll be drunks to avoid.
We're past Crewe and I know
Younger me made the right decision.
The path I sometimes hesitate to follow
Is bold, beautiful and scenically inefficient.
It twists and turns, trees stream
Past the train's windows
The sky looks lovely tonight
A candyfloss cloud for each of my woes (only three or four obstruct the sunset and they make it shine all the softer)
Mother of a lover, you said
You thought you'd never see me again
You often think of me, and will "follow me".
Facebook makes it easy to pretend.
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 2:02 PM UTC
Spring fever hits harder than bricks fashioned from commitment. Modern medicine might only mask me but disguise also fights the monster called allergies
When the bottle is half empty of pills
When my psyche is half full of fractured theory
I’m evened out
Swallowing Zyrtec just to cover pure symptoms helps me clear chaos clogging vacant voids.
Hiding what is really there, like the ragweed that has me all destroyed
All while covering up the fact that I don’t even like
And spending every waking moment trying to convince myself I have to.
I’m prone to be known as hypersensitive to my surroundings, tearing up and twisting tissues.
My brain is battered like a broken fish tanks clattered over my head.
So when you speak, words caress my cochlea but don’t make it past the membrane
You think flirting with nature is only temporary
I’m deviant in the fact that I’m simply just a minority
I get so nervous that sometimes I can’t breathe
Attempting to break through fog façades provided by pollen pestering septum cavities
So I’m going to put in time to rhyme and scatter thoughts like daisys carelessly
Because I am careless about what exactly us is.
Me, with my moments you'll never intake.
Sorry you mistook my misadventures as mistakes
What makes you think I'd ever tell you anything
I don't have the ability to speak
You, with your headaches and vapid complaints
You’re a joke man
Late you are in the car when you pick me up
Thanks for the scarf to satisfy this sickness
I wear it. It gets heavier and heavier
You’re satisfied, I’m strangled
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 11:52 PM UTC
A cerebral puddle of hypersensitive learning static
--
I dip into a forbidden fountain once again
--
deeper this time
Exposing the buffoon of our own nature and both dressing it and addressing it.
Taking it apart
Analysis and fragmentation
An obseversationalist's dream!
Expanding the groundwork laid out before me and building an empire with the infinite knowledge I attain
(through means less conventional... To some)
I throw the dice again and again.
I never lose...
just my luck I suppose?
But in reality I could of lost it all that day...
Brain drunk in mindlessness...
Blazed- in a sunset overcoat, my radiator blood stream perspires in a way that I had never seen until now...
Fading in and out of focus
~My safe zone is diminishing~
I can no longer draw you the lines I walked that day.
Alleviating my sickness for a time and
Vexing my temporary cure... I really must be ill
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 11:45 PM UTC
Even a sharp-roaring cold can’t fall well; Your ***** of true pearls will stick to the veins of your flaming face like a red apple and will smash and knock when they hit the ground! He would sniff high up, gasping for mountain air a little cleaner, preservable, like an asthmatic! Your confidence erupts in your wounded petal soul; your selfish life is nailed to a chair or table; you are starting to get used to it gradually: you can't be right either. They'll knock down your worn-out taxi clock!
What a killing, lousy slap in Life! And maybe for "some" it's the leader, because that's all there is left! Holy indifference already envelops you as a restraining force! The Present is creeping and twisting with Angola! And everyone hides back into their own flesh when they humble themselves! Depth and Height are already nesting there in everyone! A mysterious intuition of prophecy is often torn out of non-existence; decisions are forced out by the Word of Traitor! In your shivering smile, you may know yourself when the snow falls!
Your introverted loneliness is also becoming more Stone Age; your soul is constantly hypersensitive Irish on a barely known chessboard! The restless, curious child inside rubs the purple petal of your heart! With an open mind, you would welcome everyone to be your sincere Friends, but you are already going to the wall from the corinates of jerks! - You expose yourself to the fact that by listening to the solid vases and the rattling of fragments of memory, which are emptied of your past deprived life, you are still listening!
Mar 17, 2021
Mar 17, 2021 at 3:08 AM UTC
Puddles of rain form gelatin-like amoebas on a shiny black rail.
Waiting to be windswept and float off to another landing place.
Unmoved by vociferous bluejays, hypersensitive and affected by mounds of coffee and glucose; their rushing with urgent energy to be heard and to speak truths unfounded and non-sensical.
All still beyond a longing for certainty; quiet in the flow of illusion that roils incessantly yet uncontrolled and preordained.
Tears of joy to soothe a parched sphere; and we begin again…
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 8:48 AM UTC
I’m hypersensitive - this is my low and it dips lower
She uttered tiny daggers aiming surely nowhere but landing in my mind where they would stab for days on end
I tried to fog them out with smoke and spirit but my spirits got the best of me
I attempted a similar approach to life, to do just as she,
Debauchery and all
But it was no good
I needed revenge to truly heal by way of equal hurt returned twice more
Unforgiving and bitter I dwell and I swell until the pressure of my feeling turns to water
Drink it and leave me alone forever.
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 6:08 PM UTC
The mind can be devious.
Sometimes far worse than just being plain mischievous.
Heart racing, thoughts chasing, fast pacing.
Back and forth, up and down.
From a smile to a frown.
Feeling everything – HYPERSENSITIVE!!!
Every step you take is super tentative.
Scream, shout and cry,
You can’t stop it no matter how hard you try.
“PLEASE STOP I…I...CAN’T BREATHE!!”
You managed to stutter out even though your chest did so heave.
Eyes pressed up against an already tear- soaked sleeve.
Curled up in a tight ball.
Facing a blank wall.
Knuckles white.
An external show of the internal fight.
The monster inside is dying to be let loose,
Ready and waiting to send you straight to the nearest noose.
All your muscles tense.
Your body is in a constant state of suspense.
You hear a loud knock.
Followed the unmistakable twisting of a key in the door lock
Instinctive your head snaps up to the clock.
You turn your eyes skyward as sign of gratitude.
Knowing the physician on the other side can subside your minds’ hellishly destructive attitude.
And one simple push of that magical plunger.
You slowly start to slip into a world of unconscious wonder.
No more internal storms. lightning or thunder.
The doctor enters with a small smile.
Knowing that his next actions will bring you relief, even if it’s just for a while.
“Thank y-you.”
“Shhh…S’okay it’s what I do.”
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 7:29 PM UTC