"hyperventilation" poems
I'm suffocating.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle my throat closing,
no don't call 911,
there's no reason to.
I'm choking.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle the mucus that blocks my throat,
I can spit it up just fine,
so just keep on walking.
I'm coughing.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle myself doubled over in pain,
with my chest hurting as I try to sit up straight,
so just ignore me hacking up a lung.
I'm breathing.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle hyperventilation without my inhaler,
I don't have to breathe properly to live,
so thanks for just leaving me on the floor.
I'm dying.
But I don't need your help,
it's not like I have no energy to get my inhaler,
you can totally just run out of the room panicking,
it's not like i'm scared too or anything.
I'm angry.
And for some reason,
you can't figure out why.
So leave me alone.
I'm fine now.
I can handle myself.
I don't need your help.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 4:24 PM UTC
Mitochondria generating the necessary energy
to graze my fingertips across your zygomatic arch.
Feeling your breath quicken to almost hyperventilation
as desire fills your eyes. Blood pounding through your heart
containing red cells, white cells, fibrin, plasma, life-giving oxygen.
I brush hair behind your ear and feel a quadrigeminal leap
in the need to hold you close.
Feb 7, 2011
Feb 7, 2011 at 6:26 AM UTC
Hyperventilation
Depleting frustration
Suffocation
A painful sensation
Desperation
Without moderation
Devastation
Eternal damnation
Deprivation
Emotional mutilation
Derealization
Fear escalation
Depersonalization
Self extermination
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC
In the dark of night, in the middle of a storm
A dish falls, shatters
A shriek tears the relative silence
Pale pink blood blossoms in the water
While rich red blood wells up in the hand
Tears falling like a blinding waterfall
Stabs and throbs of aching stinging searing pain
Blood and pain and tears fill the mind
A flash of white tissue beneath the torrents of red
Panting sobs and hyperventilation
Panicking as victim is rushed to the ER
Mother tries to comfort daughter with story of healed,
Previously lacerated toes
Two words blurted between gasps of pain: NOT HELPING
Arrive to an empty lobby, excepting a nurse and receptionist
Focus on nothing, only the hand
The possible tendon torn, the skin shredded, the blood spilt
Dishtowel now soaking red irony fluid instead of clear soapy
The story repeated 6, 7, 8 times
A nurse asks if I smoke or drink
A radiologist asks if there is any chance for pregnancy
And for a moment I am shocked out of my pain into pondering
The corruption of the modern generations,
Such that I am asked these questions
Any friend of mine would quickly tell that
No, I'm not that kind of teenager... but how many are?
Then I am whisked from the x-ray room
Off for stitches, they say my tendon is cut
That I need stitches
The fingers no longer gush, but that triviality is soon remedied
A doctor probes the wound for shards
Nurse flushes it clean with chlorohexadine
Both renew the flow
Doctor returns, stitches both fingers and chats away
Grand tally of five stitches, a splint, blankets of guaze,
And a roll of medical tape
Prescriptions for pain meds and antibiotics, both given
A scoffing glance, but instructions are followed
Forbidden from any activity with the right hand by my mother
I struggle even to write, simple chores soon a nuisance
First time the splint and stitches are gone,
Doctor number two declares my hand usable
First time the little finger bends, the half healed skin splits
So all for a plate, a hand was rendered more useless
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 10:07 PM UTC
Fig Newton Vanilla Wafers
Like sand through an hourglass
The smell of Doublemint Wrigley’s
Gum that lingers in the air like
Your poltergeist hanging on a string
Chicken and dumplings
Christmas at your place
There were so many pictures and
Do you remember me anymore?
Quicksand neurons coughing up
Phlegm and congestive heart failure
Diabetic membranes hooked up to pacemakers
You’re kidneys were caustic waste bins
And you ****** yourself
Cancer Cancer
Don’t shut your eyes
***** and hypertension
Hyperventilation
My mother is crying
I’m crying
Don’t die
Please don't die
"She’s not responding"
"Somebody say something"
Amazing Grace
Amazing Grace
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 2:00 PM UTC
Love is suicide,
Loving you is emotional death
Hyperventilation,
Cardiac arrest
There exists no life without you
I am crippled by the absence of your warmth
Struggling to be free from thy love
Whilst chained to the ground.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC
pap
pap
pap
I can't breath
my stomach is bubbling
like hot cheese
on an fresh oven pizza
my legs feel skinny
I want to lean into a wall
the floor looks spinny
the wainscoting is squint
my vision is blurry
because...tears?
Why is there worry
in my middle?
I feel fine,
my mind is sound
this fear isn't mine
what’s it doing here?
What is this panic?
Fight or flight I understand,
but this is plain manic.
I need to go
at top speed
or maybe hide?
Either way, be freed
from this distress.
pap
pap
pap
Push someone over,
human shield that ****
reduce my exposure
to hyperventilation.
Shallow in,
shallow out,
I feel akin
to sprinting Mufasa
Pure distress
acute discomfort,
a proper mental problem. Nonetheless,
it’s strange to foresee the diagnosis.
It’s as if I’m watching
from someone else’s skin
as alligator clamps are botching
holding my physiology in.
A sunburn on my innards,
a paperweight within
you’d think I’d feel pride
for finally having something wrong.
Hypochondria being accurate
the years of inventing doom,
suddenly isn't aberrant
those fabrications had substance.
Or maybe all these thinks
are symptoms in themselves
after sifting through piles of shrinks,
maybe I can finally get some help.
pap
pap
pap
Look at my pretty framed prescription,
doctor certified, messy handwriting,
this will take some decryption...
don’t worry, take your time,
this pathoreaction won't go away.
I’m told desolation
is a temperament set to stay
until after eighteen simple payments.
I’m inclined to reject treatment
of drugs that fiddle with the mind
I’d rather stay present,
continue inconsistency.
I would like to try narration,
see how many kilometers I can recall.
I can deal with frustration,
so let’s talk about my childhood.
Public transit without destination
sends me on a revere,
an absence of crippling desperation.
I've found peace before
it was between yellow poles,
in the outside pocket
of a backpack on parole.
It smiled at me quietly.
pap
pap
pap
Apparently, it’s the small things
that help you deal with anxiety.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 6:10 AM UTC
Nine years later
I still feel everything.
Potent ****** reaction.
Guilt has caused
Riverbed cheeks.
This single image
That I've kept buried
In an attempt to leave behind
Is seared into my mind.
It plays out:
My mother is there;
up against the wall.
Pig-tailed braids
And slender in overalls.
Cowering
In hyperventilation
And sobs
Looking so child-like,
Cornered
By 3 betrayals in human form.
Voices raised in accusation
Ripping into her
In my bedroom.
Feeling ill and lost
I lie face down on the bed,
Covering my ears,
Screaming.
Blocking out
The family fight
Chaotic and ferocious,
Like worlds end
Crumbling my foundation
Only feet away
Words like daggers
Slathered in anger,
Hate, and distrust.
I couldn't handle
Seeing my mom like that;
Bullied, scared,
And broken down.
Hated and attacked
By a husband
Who vowed to love and protect her;
By a son-in-law
Who was meant to respect her;
By my sister
Who was first-born to her.
All because a misunderstanding,
A rumor,
A lie.
And I,
Too young to understand
What this meant,
But who knew the truth,
Didn't come to her rescue.
And now she
Is outcasted and alone
And I
Can't wash myself
Of this searing recollection.
21 years old
I still find myself
Lying face down,
Covering my ears,
Screaming.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 3:36 AM UTC
Even if
nightmares, cats, leaders, *** beauty, hugs, feelings, melodies, technology, communication, life, abandonment, longings, mornings, electronics, kingdoms, followers, humiliation, darlings, hyperventilation, depression, Alonedom, ghosts, trundles, Hell, gravity, tickling, hearts, unicorns, twins, education, lost ones, ink, medications, pavements, thoughts, souls, suicide, walls, hatred, alcohol, oceans, soles, music, misspellings, transportation, buses, guts, Heaven, time, attractions, ***** hands, blindness, organs, dreams, bodies, distances, understanding, currency, energy, love, spaghetti, contentment, happiness, tears, fire, people, oxygen, tongues, children, peace, death, papas, zombies, homicide, blood, kisses, drugs, families, caffeine, mamas, space, parchments, baked goods, economy.
didn't exist,
I would still wish you would
But you don't anymore
so nothing matters.
Apr 22, 2012
Apr 22, 2012 at 2:20 PM UTC
Forever unhappy.
These words echo throughout my mind searching for a landing spot
as if my mind was made up of cliffs, instead of a straight cave.
Damage done throughout the years
has broken off
pieces
of matter
from the sides,
seemingly making me unstable
when in reality each groove offers security to those
brave enough to enter my darkness and venture forth.
Forever unhappy
has become the theme of my penitentiary.
He wrote it as I felt it,
but when the earth shook with our last kiss it still didn’t budge.
Emancipation- if there is such a thing- has failed to find me
despite the fact that I left.
I took a liberty walk into a straightjacket because the truth is:
I cannot escape him.
Since his absence, I have lost feeling. If I’m not preoccupied, I’m numb.
I press through the day normally
except for the occasional external
faltering to submission
in doses of anxiety attacks
where my hyperventilation becomes a rhythm of its own
until I find myself distracted once again.
I’m forcing myself to be more involved with life, but it’s false hope.
I know he resides in me,
waiting rather impatiently for my return. Lurking like a demon,
yet shadowed to preserve innocence
so when the light renders him different, we can both blame my vision.
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 3:42 AM UTC
Hyperventilation
Depleting Frustration
Suffocation
A Painful Sensation
Desperation
Without Moderation
Devastation
Eternal Damnation
Deprivation
Emotional Mutilation
Derealization
Fear Escalation
Depersonalization
Self Extermination
Feb 24, 2020
Feb 24, 2020 at 7:34 PM UTC
My heart is in throbbing tone
My hands are as cold as stone
Sleepless, I become restless
Shortness of air, I become breathless
Controlling emotions seems helpless
An emotional distress
In the realization of my hyperventilation
I get dizzy and sleepy
My mind is on overdrive worry
Voices have strained my mind
And the Echoes have drained my body
Into a slumpy Winnie.
© Pax
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
write at midnight. edit in the morning.
write on a mountain. edit on a beach.
write inside a dream. edit & exist in reality.
write in a fever pitch as starlight kisses your cheekbones.
edit in the cold dawn light without excuses.
write loudly with Bjork screaming into the curtains.
edit in silence.
write as the clouds gather around the gibbous moon.
edit as the sun crests the hill & burns away the fog.
write inside, cozy under a blanket.
edit naked, cold on the front porch.
write asking questions.
edit demanding answers.
write blindfolded with your fingers waltzing across the qwerty.
edit bespectacled or with a monocle.
write like a mass ****** edit like a suicide.
or better yet
write like a homicide. edit like a detective.
write toward the open sky with your legs outstretched before you.
edit facing a clean white wall with your knees against your chest.
write because you are innocent. edit because you are guilty.
write during a fit of hyperventilation.
edit during mammoth exhalation.
write with complexity. edit into simplicity.
write, as Hemingway did, drunk.
edit, not sober, but hungover.
see your flaws in the sharp mirror of a headache.
write during sloppy explosion. edit during precise implosion.
write with your head in the clouds gnawing at the cumulus.
edit with your feet firmly planted in the ground.
write during violent collision.
edit during calm separation.
write with a pencil on soggy paper in a hot shower.
edit with a red pen sitting in tepid murky bathwater.
write among raucous laughter & banging skillets.
edit in secret while the kids are asleep.
write like a sadomasochist.
edit like a psychiatrist.
write while running on your tip-toes.
edit while lying flat on your back.
write in several languages with abandon.
edit beside a translator dictionary.
write as you are engulfed in fire.
edit with an extinguisher.
write with careless fluidity.
edit without assistance from amphetamine or coffee.
write with a full bladder,
standing up,
jitterbugging,
squeezing the tip of your *****
closed--urgently
squirm & trickle
your ideas onto
the porcelain page.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 11:33 AM UTC
Okay,
so I've let you go,
and I'm oddly calm about it,
no freaky heart about it,
no hyperventilation, over-exaggeration
no panicking and crying on the floor about it
I think maybe I'm okay
I think maybe that today
it is safe to say
that I'm moving on
from you.
And thank you, dear sir, thank you
You opened my eyes to so much of the world
You showed me love, and you showed me heartbreak
So thank you, dear sir, yes, thank you,
And feel free to stop by again
someday.
You have a place in my heart, a special place, always;
You're welcome here, always
I'm not mad at you, I swear
Am I sad, au contraire!
I think that I feel rather freed...
Leaving me without a goodbye
Left me on the floor, feeling like I might die
All I really needed was some closure
So, thank you, dear sir, thank you
For tossing this gal one last word.
Feb 12, 2017
Feb 12, 2017 at 5:21 PM UTC
Frantic beating
from my heart
hyperventilation starts
mind races
body numbs
head pounding
like erratic drums
an anxious fit
won't go away
with me forever
it's home to stay.
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 5:00 AM UTC
Tears down my face
that scream "I miss you,"
scratching the sheets
on your side of the bed,
reaching
reaching
reaching to hold on
but i'm kept awake
coughing up emptiness
tossing and turning
tossing and turning
forcing some sort of
hyperventilation
in an attempt to breathe.
As my heart beats slow back
to what I assume is normal
I catch my breath and repeat
"Inhale, exhale
Inhale, exhale
everything is okay."
And if it's not right now,
it will be.
The tears now whisper
a quiet and deep "I miss you"
as they trace down
the crevice of my lips
where I can only hope
that your mouth will meet me
when we're ready
back on your side of the bed.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 11:46 PM UTC
Not only do I look at the cup as half empty
It contains poison
Lost my positive outlook a long time ago
Humor hides my broken feelings
Having breakdown inside though
Full of darkness dampening my mood
No light to cancel it out
On the verge of hyperventilation
Tears fall of sorrow and doubt
I am hollow
Fighting restless itch
Tried pulverizing negativity
No matter which weapons I arm myself with
Is too abundant to expel from my body
My voice quiet and unsure
Words are stronger than stone
I am told I should look on the bright side of things
Stormy weather is all I've ever known
Heard silence when needing comfort
Snowed when I longed for the warmth of the sun
Witnessed those I care about
Walk out door one by one
Wasted hours weeping in vain
Knowing tears would not change the past
I was foolish enough to get my hopes up
Despite the fact good things rarely last
I lost optimism the older I grew
Cannot find silver linings anymore
The partially filled glass knocked off the table
It's completely empty on the floor
Aug 13, 2021
Aug 13, 2021 at 10:22 AM UTC
everything i've ever known
turns to dust, spiraling in a
constellation of tremors and
hyperventilation and worry,
so much worry, and every
moment in which i exist i
can feel my heart threaten
to beat straight out of my
ribcage and maybe i
want it to.
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 7:26 PM UTC
Sudden
Abrupt
Unexpected
These words describe a sensation
A sensation that fashions the soul
Molding, sculpting
The person I am today
Hyperventilation
Nausea
A sudden rush
Adrenalin
Slamming doors
Crowded, congested
Populously packed into a box
Air tight
Repetitiveness is a quality this one sensation possesses
Repeating
Over and over
Repeating
Fearing it
Fearing it's repetitiveness
Repeating all over again
Preventing me
From opportunities
Simple, basic, opportunities
While I'm still stuck
In the box
That populously packed box
All alone
Shouting
Till my larynx
Rip and tears
But I'm left
Abandoned
With no response
This sensation
The panic
Has no end
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 3:26 PM UTC
15 years old:
invite a group of friends over
to sit in my empty living room
with brand new wood floors -
we’re renovating
proof: I’m not poor
16 years old:
hang out of my sister’s
bedroom window,
swing into wet mulch,
steal away to twone’s
to get hammered and
touch my first ****
proof: I’m not afraid
18 years old:
lament over the fact
that I’m the last senior
alive without a cell phone
you got the flip, *****
happy birthday
proof: I’m one of you
21 years old:
rip six foot bongs,
squirt jaeger bombs
into mouths from a gallon jug,
***** black sushi sacrifice
proof: I can hang
22 years old:
get caught with drugs
in 90 degree Arizona desert,
make friends with drug dog,
tell the truth while you take a ****
sit in a cell and make plans
to call brother for bail
proof: the truth won’t always set me free
11 years old:
go into a department store
with my auntie,
heavy footsteps follow,
head to the juniors department,
heavy footsteps follow,
turn round, see an old man,
think, ‘he must be shopping for
his granddaughter’
proof: innocence is blind
have to *** head to the bathroom,
heavy footsteps follow
with ragged breathing,
watch as Velcro sneakers stand
just beyond the door my stall,
curl into a ball and
wait, wait, wait,
as my brain takes on silent screaming
proof: I am nothing but prey
hear the next stall door
creak open,
watch feet walk in and legs
begin to bend,
explode out of stall
into store,
find auntie and begin
hyperventilation and
true demonstration of fear
proof: I am a woman now
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 4:41 PM UTC
He was a Breathtaker. A royal, high-class, naturally-born, take-it-or-leave-it Breathtaker. I had never seen one before in real life, only heard about them in the tales of a girl's childhood.
The first day he took my Breath was in a parking lot. He stood there alone in the parking lot, with his sparklers in hand, and wrote words in the air for no one but himself to see. He hummed while he wrote, haphazardly opening his mouth slightly, in a never-ending melody.
Later, I found out that the words he wrote in the air would later be turned into music, beautiful songs that could lift your feet off the ground and give your soul the wings to fly. But this first night, I knew nothing of the breathtaker's ability to create such beauty.
The lit end of the sparkler seemed to be a metaphor for the Breathtaker's aura. Shining, energetic, with a tendency to mezmerize. One didn't want to stop watching his mind at work.
So I sat there in the grass and watched him. Looking at the swift motion of his arms, I became entranced by the passion with which he worked. So quickly, I couldn't even pick up much of what he was writing. One could easily tell, however, that he wasn't going to forget a word of it.
I, however, had brought my typewriter for such an occasion. I sat there and typed words that he made me feel. The first line was "intrigue. night sky. man. electricity fingers. fizzled feelings. stranger. lips. curls. air. no breath."
And so my Breath was hardpressed to move. It entered my mouth and stopped, right below my soft palette, not wanting to enter further. My Breathing was very shallow, almost a soft hyperventilation, caught between time moving and time paused.
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 10:29 PM UTC
Playlist
Track 1: Intro
Track 2: Fingers Tapping Keys (Creating Words)
Track 3: One Way Conversations From the Driver's Seat
Track 4: Eye Contact
Track 5: Music From a Black Cab
Track 6: Poetry
Track 7: The Feeny Call
Track 8: Foreign Languages
Track 9: Secrets
Track 10: Heavy Breathing
Track 11: Rustling
Track 12: Tickled Laughter
Track 13: I Miss You Already
Track 14: Ambient Musicians
Track 15: Accusations
Track 16: Tears
Track 17: **** Off
Track 18: Hyperventilation
Track 19: I Miss You
Track 20: Biting Lip
Track 21: **** Off (Reprise)
Track 22: Silence
Track 23: Static
Track 24: Wondering
DISC TWO:
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 11:30 PM UTC
Let my words
continue to carry beyond this page
and into my veins
for purpose, for clarity, for understanding
of how lovely the days have become
now that I've found you
Let my words, on this page
entwine in our veins
and my worries slowly disappear
now that Ive found you
I wrote of you once before we met of how my words would blossom and expand and touch the sky just for you
how I would have a million different combinations of letters and words..
a thousand ways, just to tell the world how I feel about you
so here I am
affection felt, feelings bared
Love is suicide
Hyperventilation, Cardiac arrest
I am crippled by the absence of your warmth when you're not around
Struggling to be free, Whilst chained to the ground
Love is passion
desire fueled, velvet kisses
moaning pleasure, telling sighs
firmly pressed, flawless motion
sweaty bliss, drops of lust
stained flesh with satin fervor
Love is the hope 20 years from now
I'll still be writing of you under the night sky whilst admiring the moon after we finally calmed our son's nerves down about his first day of school in the morning
Love is idiotic
Its so much easier to push someone away, than to let yourself become vulnerable
To give them the power to hurt you.
Showing your true feelings is relinquishing all your power.
Trusting someone to not take advantage of your weaknesses.
And that, is an absolutely ridiculous act
Once weakness is spoted, it is used and abused, untill you are just a quivering mess lying on the floor, wondering how you ever let yourself get into such a situation.
love is in its whole all of these things
and I love you
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 10:42 PM UTC
Her:
What am I to you?
Am I a raggedy doll?
That you continuously abuse?
To be stuck with this torture any longer,
I refuse.
Why treat me like this?
You made me take this risk,
Ruining my reputation,
lightheaded from hyperventilation.
Do you know that I hate when we argue?
Our days are becoming short,
Limited to a short few.
Why is conversing with you like talking to a white wall?
You nod your head and say okay
I'm just like... is that all?
You're never there to catch me when I fall.
Why don't you want to answer?
You got me crying like a little girl who lost her hamster.
I'm not perfect.
Judge,
I think we reached our verdict...
Being me simply does not do.
You want me to change,
I guess I have to.
so I'll ask again,
What am I to you?
Him:
What you are to me,
is a question you need
to not ask.
I love you how you are,
Don't jump to conclusions so fast.
I mask my feelings
through jokes and laughs.
But if you do the math...
it adds up to
Me+You,
**** what I do.
Just know that I love you.
despite the jokes...
If I hurt you,
I'm sorry... cause when you hurt, I hurt twice as much.
Cause I know I'm the one
that fvcked everything up.
I apologize, forgive me?
Cause if I lose you,
I lose my reason for living.
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 7:21 AM UTC