"hyperventilating" poems
Crush
Him around
Heart starts to pound
Fast, faster
Loud, louder
Hard, harder
Wildly now my heart’s pumping
To my face blood keeps rushing
My cheeks starts flushing
My chest now aching
I stop breathing
Now I’m hyperventilating
This is embarrassing
What if he’s looking?
No,
Oh no...
noooOOOoooo!
....
Nah, I’m just joking
Who am I kidding
He didn’t notice
He doesn’t care
He doesn’t even know I exist
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 4:13 AM UTC
I like simple things.
Walking
Breathing
Talking
I don't like simple things that turn into compex things.
Sprinting
Hyperventilating
Arguing
I have a hard time focusing on simplicity when it all changes into complexity without warning.
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 2:59 AM UTC
On cold, October evenings, you can hear the rustling of leaves being blown by the wind.
Your neighbor's dog barking with an echo down the street.
The giggling of children as they play games under the glow of dim street lights.
You are not alone.
And then there's the sunset,
Colors grazing what is left of the autumn leaves on the trees,
it is time for you to situate yourself back into your home.
There's a quietness to your house; bodies lingering nearby but don't present themselves.
You scale the stairs that creak with each step like an eerie tune that brings brief life into the home.
Bristly fur of a cat brushes against your goose bumped skin.
You are not alone.
The stillness of your bedroom,
The hall light peeking through from under your closed door creating shadows in the darkness.
The light representing someone is still awake in the quiet house as you're trying to close your eyes and shut off your thoughts.
Quiet sobbing turned into hyperventilating as the blanket you're clutching, crumples as your grip tightens.
You feel cold and helpless fighting internally with the dark shadows making their way into your mind.
Your gasping breaths are abruptly stopped by the beat of rushed footsteps.
The swinging open of your door creates a wave of light that masks out the nothingness in your room.
Their arms wrapping tightly around your shaking body,
as you gurgle your fears out of your throat,
is that warmth you craved.
"You are not alone."
Sep 4, 2017
Sep 4, 2017 at 8:54 PM UTC
It wasn't quite a party.
More of a kickback
just ten or twelve friends
drinking and smoking from a huge glass ****
all of them huddled around the computer
watching funny videos on YouTube
of people getting hurt and ****
The guy at the controls
went to a website
ratemyboobs.com or ratemytits.com
something like that
and the four girls there
all moaned and groaned
saying they didn't want to see **** like that.
The guys all laughed
and continued rating the pictures of *****
as they came up one by one
when all of the sudden
a picture of a guy holding his ****
came up on the screen.
The girls finally had a reason to laugh
the guys were all grossed out
but one guy more than anyone else
he freaked out.
"What the **** bro?! I don't wanna see guy's ***** I'm not gay!"
"Relax man...no one said that you were. Chill out."
He looked like he was hyperventilating and about to
break out in ******* hives.
"But that's gay **** bro! I'm not gay, so I don't wanna see that **** ****
He stomped off to the backyard
lighting a cigarette
you could still hear him out there
shouting over and over
"I'm not gay. I'm not ******* gay!"
he yelled, pacing back & forth.
Everyone around the computer
didn't know what to say
so they just chuckled quietly
and then someone said it.
What every person there was thinking,
"Wow. That's sad. He's totally gay."
one of the girls said.
"Yup. Totally gay..." the guy at the computer said cracking up.
He rated the **** picture
ten out of ten
and moved on
to more ****
Jan 11, 2012
Jan 11, 2012 at 9:10 PM UTC
I asked if there was anyone there remotely my age,
and she said yes. I had just dumped all the money in my
wallet into trying to make my savings not negative.
It didn't work.
I walked over, stepped inside,
and saw teenagers. She told me,
there's a guy outside and he's twenty.
I got ******* duped by a kid.
Her parent's left, unwisely.
I met another half-black person,
a 15 year old girl who had dark skin
and hated everything that resembled
"blackness" or "black culture".
She even called herself white.
Here I was, outside drinking grape soda
out of a hello kitty mug,
discussing radical feminism
to teenage girls-
**and ******* five shots were fired**.
Not even 15 feet away, behind the garage.
[A fake 100 was exchanged, to which distaste was shown,
also this sentence is in parentheses,
and technically doesn't even exist].
So now there are teenage girls crying over gunfire,
hyperventilating, the high school boys jogging-
people in a swarm heading indoors,
and me.
The stupid-fucking-tragic-yet-benal artist,
running in his stupid ******* circle,
trying to decide if he should go inside
with the crazy juvenile people, or see if he can get shot,
because he already lives life awaiting some
stupid ******* narcissistic tragedy
to wipe him off the map.
My opportunities had rushed away already however.
I walked inside and sat on the couch hugging
one of those puffy round pillows and laughing
maniacally. It was intense after all.
Kid Duper tried to relate to me.
I know she didn't get it.
No one ever really ******* gets it.
Understood, maybe? No one understands.
I left shortly after with a copy of Fahrenheit 451.
I was told I could borrow it.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 4:02 AM UTC
1
I read in a poem that there is no sound more ****** than the clink of a belt being undone but you only wear worn out t-shirts and a frown on your face. I think of the sound of tires driving slowly over the asphalt and how I could get turned on easier by a look than a touch. Your bed and you both taste like sweat but I am not going to complain because I'd rather be overheating than alone. I consider switching on your swamp cooler but it's loud and I want to be able to hear your moans in order to remind myself that you want me too. Do you?
2
I was doing my poetry homework when I had to stop in order to write poetry.
3
I dont know if I can handle the fact that you have made playlists for other people and that is so 2018 of me. Did you make that playlist for her?
4
[redacted]
5
If panic attacks actually helped anything I wouldn't mind the hyperventilating but instead I still feel like a sink has sunk inside my chest even after I've calmed down. Wouldn't it be nice if you could cry it, release it, scream to the skies and then be okay afterwards? I'm not sure who made me believe the symptoms of my mental illness should be like a shower; I don't feel cleansed. I don't feel new. I only feel raw, exhausted. It feels more like that same dull knife is tearing me open each skin layer at a time until I figure out how to grab the hand that holds it or I'm left open on the table, whichever comes first.
6
I'm writing in order to breathe. If I can't get oxygen to my brain my fingers won't be able to move.
7
I'm so scared I'm going to lose you. I don't want you in any other way. I want to love you, hold you.
8
I hear a baby crying outside of your window and I realize I need to get up to go home and get my work clothes. I find these simple things excruciating. Writing to you is a diary but I never should have learned to open my mouth and speak.
9
I started this poem four months ago and titled it a seven day long poem but I guess now it’s more than that. You always made me feel the things I’m currently feeling, I've never given up control this much in my life. I like to be in control, the one ignoring, the one who needs the time. I wish I didn’t love you like I do (it's just, there you know. It won't go away. It's not too much or too little, it's just stubborn, just like you). I'm so scared I'm going to lose you. I don't want you in any other way. I want to love you, hold you. Did you make that playlist for her too?
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 8:16 PM UTC
The wheel clinched tight
Fingers numb and white
Hyperventilating
Counting to ten
Anxieties curse
Mind, a devine quality
Over....
Thinking
A flash of death as her passengers lay lifeless
Death
She pictures faces
A ****** mess
Stillness
Everyone sits singing and unblemished
A true definition of mangled point of view
A routine her mind has provided
Someone else hits the petal accelerating
She is familiar with picturing the world dying
She is now stamped with, "I'm part of the ****** up society"
Stay clear
She is endearing
The tea cup world believes she is dangerous
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 12:16 AM UTC
what you see:
me, quiet and deadly still in a way that
i never am
staring into empty space or
at a blank wall. maybe i'm
counting cracks or cataloging creases.
you see me zone out—
such an airhead, that George is
i wonder what he's imagining
what i see:
ivory skin and hair as orange as
sunset, and she is as beautiful...
on the outside;
but on the inside, she is a
black hole.
she ****** me in
and i thought she was the light
at the end of the tunnel.
i must have been a traveller
stranded and thirsty in the desert
crawling towards mirages.
now i am helpless.
i am watching her line her legs with ink
as she tells me to make sure that she
doesn't line her legs
with blood.
meanwhile, i scratch deep
at an itch that isn't there
and call it catharsis.
i am seeing white tiles and
a translucent shower curtain and
a sink and soaps and everything is
normal—except the girl
sitting in a bathtub
naked without water
and bare skin has never made me feel more
ill.
what you hear:
ambient sounds.
my breathing, perhaps.
what i hear:
she hums like a Disney villain
brewing potions
and calling it tea. she looks
like a princess
but her words are witch's curses
and i'm hexed
under her spell,
hanging by a thread
to every word she's ever said
and somehow not noticing
the noose she looped around my neck.
darling, choke me
'til I can only breathe as well as your drowning lungs
as you gasp into your oxygen mask
what you see:
i'm having a panic attack.
what you hear:
i'm hyperventilating.
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 8:54 PM UTC
A panic attack has a way of creeping up on you
At the start of one, you always think to yourself
"No this can't be happening"
Much like the feeling you get before you
Throw Up
The heat comes on so strong and forceful
Your internal fire, dead set on burning you
from the core out
You hadn't noticed because your knees just buckled
and you went numb
The tremors
you feel them in your fingers
To your shoulders
To your tounge
Hyperventilating
The extra oxygen
Feeds the flames
Once,
With the help from a Brittle Lake
I was able to prevent this state
Seven bucks to rent a kayak
I sliced into the lake
I paddled and paddled and paddled
My arms were introduced to a new kind of fire
A blue cleansing flame
Take a break and drift
Listen
Breath
Lament
Paddle
Feel the warmth of the sun on your face
Paddling again, now it's the breeze and spray
A smile creeped upon my face
At Lake Brittle I was able to keep the panic at bay
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
I won't remember the parties
Or the school events
Or the games
Because I never went to them
But this is what I will remember
I'll remember the late nights of homework
And having to wake up early the next morning
And being exhausted in my 9am class
I'll remember the stress that ate my *** alive
To the point where I would cry for 10 minutes straight
And then get back to work like it never happened
I'll remember having an anxiety attack after leaving my professor's office
Because she made me feel stupid about how I wrote my speech
And the moment I stepped outside
I let go of a breath I didn't know I was holding
Then, I started hyperventilating and crying
I'll remember working out in the gym
Because according to my doctor I was obese
And well exercise is a great stress reliever
I'll remember losing my grandfather my junior year
And being so sad and depressed that some days I wouldn't even go to class
And having to go home for the first time and see him not there
I'll remember going through a break up the summer before my junior year
And having my ex try to gain my trust so that he would get another chance
Still confused on whether I should or shouldn't by the way
I'll remember growing closer to some of my friends
And some of my friends distancing themselves from me
And barely spending time with my friends from home
I'll remember contemplating on dropping out
Or going to another school
Or trying to make my other dreams come true
I'll remember being in the financial aid office more times than I can count
Because I'm paying out of pocket for my education
Student loans, Pell grants, and financial aid
Still isn't enough to cover my tuition
I'll remember being moved off campus into smaller dorms
Sharing a room with my best friend
And fighting off creepy crawlers and critters that found their way inside
And missing classes because transportation either ran late
Or didn't come at all
Who knows what else I'll remember
Not done with college yet
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 11:27 AM UTC
hobbies: hyperventilating on the bathroom floor, writing poetry for a boy who doesn't care, drinking whiskey for breakfast
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 4:39 PM UTC
I lost my voice
I was use on crying silently
Having a breakdown in my room
Full of darkness
Without them knowing
Alone, hyperventilating
As tears fall from sadness
Empty, I am
I tried to shout
But my voice wouldn't come out
I heard nothing
But just silence
And me, sobbing
I lost my voice
Aug 13, 2021
Aug 13, 2021 at 5:10 AM UTC
My life consist of complex inginueity striving to be original but molding to the harshness of what the world is doing to me. Am i wrong for contemplating my lifes decisions. Because this isnt the way things where suppost to come out in my own depiction on the out come of my life. Maybe its my thoughts that are making me insane since i constanly think all i am is trash but theres a saying one persons trash is another treasure not sure if weather to believe it or not because woman come and go i just dont measure up to the dream guy. Maybe its my icebox heart that lets them see the coldness in my eyes gazing into theres filling false hopes of prosper and love each seem to be lies. Just to watch them break down in tears with no remorse when i see them cry since id rather not catch feelings being to scared to see where true love coulf take me honestly i dont know why. Im screaming in rage from the inside like im traped in a four corner room staring at walls hyperventilating unable to get out im balled up feeling trapped im at a loss. Maybe you the reader cant understand what i mean maybe you can i feel like my life has been a bunch of ups and downs more downs then ups i was just a accidental nut that swam into the womb since my fathers pull out game wasnt fast enough now im stuck with the harsh reality of a cold world that beats me down after i get back up when will enough be enough maybe i need to find love and stop trying to hide the void wheres my diamond in the rough maybe I'm thinking again to much enough is enough
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 9:57 AM UTC
Heart racing
Head pounding
Lungs seizing
Muscles shaking
Music blaring
Hands grasping
Eyes crying
Fear grabbing
Limbs numb
Keep breathing
in,out,in,out
Hyperventilating
Mind gone
Then it's over
Standing up
Shaking knees
Stomach in knots
Face red
Breath catching
Mind buzzing
Embarrassment flooding
Deep breathes.
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 12:33 AM UTC
Walls close in
Watching.
Thoughts devour
Hyperventilating.
No way out
Keep breathing.
No explanation
Crying.
Blackness engulfs
Shaking.
Gasping for air
Trying.
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 12:31 PM UTC
Tell me in a whisper
Is there anything you'd like to confide.
My lips pressed against your neck
The images seen when eyes close.
My breath hot against your neck.
Almost hyperventilating at a gasp,
Tell me right there in a whisper,
The not so terrible things we can explore.
The lining of your neck,
The rapid beat of your heart.
Common ground my tongue travels.
The loss of control caused by your hands alone,
Pull me tighter
Exposing your ear to my mouth.
In a single bite
A moan travels down your ear
Until it reaches the peak of euphoria.
We've put this off for so long.
These things we try to hide.
Tell me in a whisper how we've waited for this moment.
With me pressed up against you
Your thigh wrapped against mine.
With eyes shut tight this moment we both long.
My fingers hid between skin.
Tell me the grin we both await
Broken by a kiss
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 1:14 AM UTC
“I know what you’re thinking.”
Do you?
You can’t read me like an open book.
You have no idea what I truly think.
What makes you so sure I even see you as a friend like the way you see me?
You see me
as a studious girl, diligently finishing my work
as an intelligent girl, acing the tests in the subjects I’m good at
as a responsible girl, always carrying out my duties with zeal and efficiency
as a kind hearted girl, courteous and honest
You also see me
as a mean girl who gossips about others
as a conceited girl who brags on and on about herself
as a selfish girl who does things only if it is to her benefit
as a coward who is afraid of so many things
as a lazy *** who does nothing in weekends
The list goes on.
Just because you see the good and the bad of me, you think
you know me.
Do you?
Don’t be too quick to answer that question.
You will never know the nights I spend going insane
thinking about myself
thinking about you
thinking about others
You will never know about the times when I breakdown into a useless emotional wreck
with the tiniest action from someone
You will never know about the certain few nights and what I did to myself
and how I cry
on and on, nails digging deep into my palms, on and on, uncontrollably hyperventilating, on and on… even when I don’t want to.
You will never know about the content in my diary
what these words really mean
what my purposes are
You will never know about the way my brain is wired
about the way I see the world
about the way my mind is poisoned, tainted, corrupted, trained to manipulate, functioned to lie.
You don’t know me even if you think you do.
You don’t know about how much I fear myself while I type these words
while I’m thinking about the pain in my heart and how it is therapeutic.
My lips are parched, my throat is dry, my breath is coming out in slow deliberate long breaths.
My mind stays warped, damaged and tainted.
The edges of my eyes hurt from too much rubbing.
My heart is still hurting, as it does every day and night.
My eyes stay shut as I think about how I am going to survive tomorrow.
You ask me why I hate everyone. You ask me why I am so pessimistic. You ask me why I am so irritable. You ask me so many questions and you say
“I know what you’re thinking.”
Do you
when I don’t even know myself anymore?
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 8:46 AM UTC
The temperature in the room is high
Thick, sweaty bodies grind to the rhythm
As music swells like smoke coming
From the joints being passed around
Laughter fills the air as full as the cups
That clutter her bedroom, like the friends
On her bed, sharing the bench in front of the keyboard,
Making out in her closet, and behind her *****
Shower curtain. She’s faded, just like the rest of them,
But through the clouds of smoke and conversation,
The date circled in black on her calendar
Reminds her of the day her mother fell to her knees
In the middle of the grocery store screaming,
Like the ****** girl who hears a funny joke
In the background, after getting a phone call
That would rewrite the date, no longer a stoner’s holiday,
But the same day as seven years before, when her mother,
Once in the car, continued hyperventilating, no passerby
Stopping to help, or to ask the twelve-year-old girl
What was wrong, like her friends who try to do so
Now as she stands and picks a picture off the shelf
Her aunt in it, alive, and kissing her cheek. /Are you okay?/
A hand comforts her shoulder. /I think I’ll smoke a little more./
She loses the staring contest and hands the picture back to the shelf.
-E (c) 2018
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 10:43 PM UTC
Anger is boiling, like a *** of water on the stove, and I can feel my veins get warm as you draw near. The web of lies you wove, trapped me in a world of pain and hatred, and caused me to lose that which I had always held dear.
I like to forgive, and I always try to forget, but you would be the first that I can never forgive. If I could cut you out of this world, like euthanizing a rabit dog at the vet, I would do it in a heartbeat, because you do not deserve to live.
Life is already ****** up without having someone to tear your confidence away, stripping you of any personality you spent your days creating. I can't believe I fell for your innocent, ******** ******* facade, and all the things you once did say. I let you in my life as a victim, and then I became the victim of us dating.
Whoever falls into your web next, I hope she has the brains to get out quick. I hope whoever else has the unfortune of meeting you realizes you're not really "sick", that these are words that hide the true meaning, that you are batshit ******* crazy and willing to beat the **** out of any person that looks at you wrong. Man, I put up with that for too long.
I may have spent the last year building back everything that you took from me; but it may never be enough. I still go through every day with symptoms of PTSD; flinching when someone moves too fast, night terrors in the middle of the night, hyperventilating when I think I see you walk past, and anger that has stopped me from ever being "alright".
Maybe only time will really heal these wounds and turn off this oven of hatred. Or maybe I will live with this anger for the rest of my life, wishing I had done something to make this pain faded...
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 7:26 PM UTC
I was happy.
I was happy,
Until I wasn’t.
I fell from grace to the dark depths of hell.
A hell I don’t believe in
Until I find myself there
Cold, hyperventilating
Gasping for air.
Desperately trying to believe in a god who will save me,
Save me from myself.
Save me from the delusions and insanity,
Save me from the self destruction that I love so much.
Save me from the self destruction that I love so much.
Happiness is fleeting
But why, God, why?
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 2:45 PM UTC
it wasn't until i was sitting on the floor of my shower,
hyperventilating your name into my hands,
that i realized you were the air i struggled to breathe
and i wasn't even the dirt under your ******* finger nails.
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 12:36 AM UTC
*"what doesn't **** you makes you stronger."*
Is that what you say?
So,
When I was lying in bed, covered in my own blood, choking on my despair. When it hurt too much to speak or eat because there was no skin left on my lips. When they were so messed up at school the next day that I had to lie to my friends, that I had to lie about the scars that I'd caused, the scars that I would tear off when I was upset, only to be replaced by deeper ones.
Does that sound strong to you?
So,
When my arguments at home were so bad that my mother thought I hated her, that when I tried to apologise I broke down for fear of messing up and making things worse. When my father stormed into my room, finding me in tears and hyperventilating yet still screamed at me for making my mother cry. When I passed out, waking in my mothers arms on my bedroom floor with my sister and father having a screaming match. When everyone was crying but me because I was so far past crying that I couldn't breathe.
So you think that was strong?
So,
When my best-friend turned against me, jealous that I had known our shared friends longer, claiming that I hit and bullied her, that I abused and threatened her, leaving me friendless and alone in a class of people that I'd never thought to become closer to. When I was called to see the head teacher, confused and eager to look after someone I called my best-friend, but was accused of smashing her head against a brick wall and dragging her across the floor and I was too stunned to defend myself, and ended up having multiple panic attacks, and sat there blubbering like a fool, thinking that I was going to be expelled over my best-friend's lies.
Do you think I felt strong?
So next time you hear someone say,
*"oh, well, what doesn't **** you makes you stronger!"*
tell them,
to shut the hell up.
Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 1:18 PM UTC
Zephyrs breach this cobble wall
Gusts of morning glory breezes
Swirl enchanting echoes about my weary mind
I reach for the top, pulling myself to my feet
So that I may see that which is calling
In gale force phrases of poetic vistas…finding me
“Hallucinating?”
Breathless, I lean on moss covered stone
Weakened by mystic dreams and sighed fragrance,
For the beauty which engulfs my sight
Of lavender reaches in ribbon’d flow,
Brush strokes of cocoa eyes smiling
Grasps my body, wrapping me in passion’d bliss…touching me
“Hypnotically”
“What magic is this?” I call out from the shadows
In wheezing voice of broken harmony
“Tis love,’ she whispers as my breath escapes
Clutching my chest in fevered emotions
Wide eyed dimensions course my now beaming face
As all of life has bloomed within my being…and I fall
“Hyperventilating”
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 8:32 AM UTC
I'm hyperventilating at the titillating notion
That when there was love in the air
We should have taken deeper breaths
The wind is warm in the summer
Each passing breeze is seamless
And lacks any lenience
Short gusts reveal its grievance
But upon inhale I can still taste its sweetness
I exhale
And with it a kiss
A small wisp whispers a wish
I pluck a single leaf from my tree
Untainted and pristine
An unfathomable green
Hold it within my folded hands
The wind shifts as if to say
Keep it
But I release it anyway
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 8:44 PM UTC