"hypothermia" poems
(tw; hypothermia, death)
Having depression is like being caught out in a blizzard.
At first, the cold seems like nothing.
You're all bundled up in a fluffy coat,
scarf wrapped around your face,
hands slipped into gloves and tucked under your arms.
But then the snow begins to fall,
and the temperature drops,
and it's like the chill is stripping you down, layer by layer,
even though all your layers are still there.
It gets colder, and you start to feel the effects of the chill,
the fierce winter seeping into your bones,
making it seem as though you only walked outside
in a pair of shorts and a tee-shirt.
Your body begins to numb as the cold starts,
the weakest parts of you losing their feeling first.
Your nose,
your ears,
your cheeks and your face and your fingers,
all becoming completely numb,
as if they aren't there anymore.
And then your legs stiffen up,
and you have trouble walking,
even though you try so hard to keep moving,
because you know if you stop, you're doomed.
But you lose your ability to function,
the cold causing almost complete ****** paralysis,
and no matter how hard you try,
it's impossible to keep moving.
You fall to the ground,
curling into a ball in the snow,
trying to keep yourself warm,
but the cold is too much.
And as the hypothermia sets in,
your brain tricks you into thinking you're actually warm,
and you strip off the layers that were the only thing
keeping you alive.
And then it's over.
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
What sort of lean-to
is habitat to your humanity?
Is it an apartment, bungalow, flat ,
or a cozy cape cod
or perhaps a suburban ranch?
What sort of lean-to
provides those inches and flames
that shield you from
hypothermia and death?
Is it a Georgian Mansion by the sea
or cardboard boxes stacked
beneath the interchange
on the far side of town?
(How many lack even that)?
What sort of lean-to's
will suffice
to shelter the family of man?
December, 2013
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 9:46 AM UTC
No damsel in distress here.
Just a hollow shell.
A heart so cold that if you try to touch it you will die of hypothermia.
I am a parasite.
So leave before I spread from your lips to your heart.
My deep blood red lipstick on your lips is nothing but a poison.
My hand that glides across your face as I rub it is me luring in my prey.
I am not innocent,
I am not able to love,
I am not yours,
I am dead already.
**So don't **** with the girl with the lipstick on**
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 10:37 PM UTC
I am the God of all that is dank, dark, and cold.
My sisters are the autumn chill and the winter wind.
Touch me, turn to ice. Hold me in constant hypothermia.
I will shatter your heart and freeze your sorrow.
You can't hold a candle to me, my presence extinguishes heat.
Very few can handle my words, with a frozen mind to follow.
I am what fire is not. I am the blizzard storm.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 9:07 PM UTC
I used to think blue eyes were pretty,
his were not.
his were not cornflower, sapphire, baby, indigo, azure,
or cloudy sky blue.
His were midnight where the light pollution from the city blocks the stars.
Iceberg, squall, hypothermia, eventual death
May 19, 2025
May 19, 2025 at 10:47 PM UTC
They always compare love to a burning fire
And say, " you ignited my heart into flames"
But you were the frozen furnace
The ancient stove that no one ever bothered to heat up
You were cold down to the core and I had electrical heat running through my veins
And everytime I touched you you gave me frostbite
I tried so hard but you were too numb
And sooner or later,
I ran out of match sticks to keep this pathetic excuse of a fire alive
Because I was the forest fire and your were the water that drowned me
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 11:49 AM UTC
Frostbite fingertips, chilly they are,
Far more appealing than the faraway stars.
That's why my eyes turn to you during winter night,
Your frostbite fingertips, caressing my cheek are light.
Just as dreams are for dreamers, love is for lovers,
And that passionate feeling around us hovers.
Others doubt, but the stars above know,
When compared to our passion, dim is their glow.
Your fingertips, cold on this snowy night,
Rejuvenate me and emblazon my life with light.
If hypothermia were to claim me now,
I hope others wouldn't long ponder how.
I'll lose myself in you any day of the year,
Even during winter, you resolve my fear.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 9:53 PM UTC
~
*Strapped to the catapult
I sportively plan my escape
By listening to pictures
In stereo
Of the flight
Of a fitful fugitive
Who sculpted depressions in ice
Throughout the flowerbed
Where there is no true sunlight
Only its influence
And by inhaling this fragility
Onto glass
Lowering the thermostat
Like a guillotine
Until hypothermia
Took his oppressors
This coldness might well
Be everlasting
But then, so is the will to survive*
~
Aug 7, 2021
Aug 7, 2021 at 1:53 PM UTC
do you know how wonderful
your eyes are?
those beautiful eyes that are
more mysterious than the
corners of the universe,
that have more depth
than the deepest trenches
of the ocean
that are closest to the core
of the earth.
those frost-bitten irises that make my
thoughts stop cold in their tracks,
the blue that's so icy
it freezes my heart in place.
that bone-chilling gaze
that throws an avalanche of
memories and emotions
at me until I'm buried and
suffering from hypothermia.
~kns
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 2:09 PM UTC
It's cranberry sauce
That’s it, I’ve done it
My brain is mush
Heartbeat through a megaphone
I’m pulling on my pant legs
Tightening my veins around my bones
& I think the thermometer in my brain needs reprogrammed
I. Now I’m a cozy embryo
With cotton in my marrow
Last of my breed so the bad men can’t see me
I’m sitting here in my own bullet train
Flying through metro lights at night
With coruscating sodium vapor
Vibrating in my peripheries
My appendages do not exist
II. We are the carbon monoxide leak
We are the cold coaxing hypothermia
Still trying to define the agony of existence
& Beauty of meaning through definition
III. “If you don’t get old, you die”
Shut up & pay your taxes old man
I can stay young for as long as I want
I am healthy
I am eternal
I’ve got all the cotton in the world
IV. I wonder if all sentient life deals
With the same paranoia as humans do
It’s the reason we never shut up
& hold love for vague idols
V. I like smiles
& I like sadness
VI. What does loneliness see when it chases its
Shadow?
You’ve got a mouse in your hand that cannot know that you are
Sentient.
You are a wooden giant from outer space that burned upon
Entry.
Where does apathy sleep when it has had too much to
Eat?
Why can’t you see your house from three million miles
Away?
If you need help breathing then you deserve to die in
Appalachia.
If I lie here long enough under enough blankets, then
I'm not real
Is it possible to save up enough money to avoid humans
Altogether?
Just like that, the spiral ceases
We were packed
Like sardines
Wrapped in butcher paper
Blind night vision
Then deer in headlights
Kissing the pavement
Mutually requited
Uninterest
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC
You ask me what I'd wish for if
I knew it would come true. I knew
it was true: you left me
to sleep out in the cold, dawn
hours and half a globe away.
If it meant I would receive frostbite,
shiver uncontrollably and turn cyanotic,
suffer hypothermia underneath the window
with the blinds closed and you
behind them shedding tears I cannot catch,
I would suffer. I did.
It reminded me of the Thanksgiving
my uncle had me grab the prong of a wishbone,
my best friend on the other side.
We made a wish and the horseshoe of ivory
cracked, and splintered into two pieces.
He got the larger half. I still kept my wish
hidden, hoping, that one day I'd meet you.
I would suckle the sorrow from your fingers,
wipe the tears and mascara with my cheek,
and croon to you I will change. I can change.
But, I must do that; and not for you.
Our love is like that wishbone. Every time
it breaks, we wish but do not work to see it through.
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 7:00 PM UTC
You're eyes look a lot like home
And that feeling swallows me up
And holds me, not tenderly, but with
A scorching intensity
That leaves me freezing with no way to warm my brittle bones
Whenever you blink
And that leaves me with a fatal hypothermia that I'll never recover from
Whenever you leave
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 10:05 AM UTC
Minnesota winter
This lake, that lake
The lake around the corner
Frozen, wholly
Catching fish through
Holes in the ice
Frostbite
Layers of snow packed deeper
And deeper
And deeper
Like an unsightly
Ice cream cake
Snowmobiles leaving traces
Of minus 40 races
Breath freezing to faces
And icicle trim laces
Something is serene
Though the air
Kind of smells like
Freezer burn
And hypothermia
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 3:41 PM UTC
Between the icy roads January brings and
how cold I am in this lonely bed,
I worry that if you crash the car,
I won't be able to tell whether it's
missing you that numbs me
or the breeze I feel when
I find myself standing over your grave.
Love comes in different ways to everyone.
Your presence warms my heart more than
anything ever has before,
and I fear that once you disappear,
so will the warmth that keeps me from freezing.
The chills I get when your fingers graze my back
are not shivers from the cold.
They're simply bliss
enveloping me in the moment
where I am certain I am only yours,
and nothing else matters.
Not the ice.
Not the snow.
Not the clouds overhead.
You're summer in my endless winter,
Eyes as green as pines,
Hair kissed by the sun,
Freckles dotting your face like bees to roses,
You're as warm as the breeze.
The ice is melting.
The snow has turned to a late spring drizzle
as a form of proof that you are not going to dissipate
or follow the weather patterns that have existed so long
here in the terrain that is my mind.
Instead, you lit a match.
The fire grew, warming the lands,
bringing life to the world I never thought I'd see again-
happiness.
You made me fall.
I am not breaking ice
and I am not succumbing to the cold,
Because you are easing me into the sea
And helping me swim.
For once,
I would not mind if the water swallowed me.
The ocean's warmer than I ever imagined,
And I wouldn't mind drowning in you.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 12:04 AM UTC
My skin left pierced;
From the gripping bite of your cold voice
Over top your cigarette breath you words still stunk
A lion-heart with a lying heart
You promised the waves of our love would never reach shore;
Instead you dumped me into shallow waters
Lying face down and still not standing...
My feet can't lock onto the drifting sands of your comfortability
so I stay there, trying to swim to my next lover
trying over and over;
...but drownings much easier
The more I turn blue, I cant seem to tell if my emotions are bursting through my skin
or the hypothermia from within.
My mind starts ticking;
My insanity seeps through but I believe it true
That once this clock strikes 12 that you'll be attached by another mouth
The boat we were once on together is drifting away
a simple memorial of true lovers lost
can't find the directions to each others heart
but hope for the best while were apart
*One day, I pray you'll float back here in my dieing last breath
and save me from my misery that you cause since.*
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 3:52 PM UTC
Hope
A fleeting tasteless thing
Something that used to be so full of flavor
Something that actually had a meaning
Causing my nervous system to spark
Stirring emotions through my body
Causing
God forbid
Emotions
But now it just feels like frost bite
And if I sit here long enough
That frostbite
Will slowly but steadily
Turn into hypothermia
And then I'll feel woozy
And then I'll feel warmer
They'll be calling ME the next tropical storm
I'll take off my clothes
Because I think that's what happens
When you start to freeze from the inside out
Hoarfrost cracking through my blood stream
I never thought it would end this way
But I guess it is a fitting death
For someone who's already frozen on the inside
It only needs to be completed
On the outside
From the beginning to the end
To the inside from the outside
Always fleeting
And never to be caged
Never to be obtained
Or granted
Or even achieved
That
Is what the simple
Four letter word
Hope
Means to me
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 3:26 PM UTC
So very cold,
All of the time.
I can't feel my hands,
But that's normal now.
I feel my bones crack,
As I try to move.
The ceaseless shivering,
Has become normal,
And ineffective.
My pale skin has a sheen of blue,
Marred by the line of red,
From my bleeding nose.
And with 3 pained breaths,
I fall to sleep,
And breath no more.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
Swisscheese isnt thin enouph.
Slices of bread arnt quite wide enouph
to be intbetween a win.
A dishwasher thinks of drunk elk fighting
On the devils table top.
He tells her to aim for the ink spot on the cueball.
But shes married to a sleeping bull.
He shows horns on friday not the tuesday
when everythings resting like salmonberries.
His herd comes for brunch and a few
glasses of champaighn on sunday.
But hes the grass they graze on.
Its his job to be a dish washer.
His frienes job makes sure the feild
tastes fresher then crab grass.
His efforts give him a choice
To leave or freeze some where else in
North dakota where the trucks rest like insomiacs.
Always on so the engine wont get hypothermia.
His text reads his lanhuage: im happy here.
Money doesnt control the few years I have
to waste on happiness.
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 5:48 AM UTC
And so she jumped.
She was flying, weightless…
The bridge was very tall…
Her senses diminishing with each inch closer to the…
She lost consciousness on her way down...
Her body dissolved into the velvet water…
**Hypothermia instantly set in as the bone chilling water
Swallowed her…**
Every sense and thought of him floating through the air…
No pulse...
Finally free…
He doesn’t fill her head anymore, the moment she stopped breathing, her blood stopped flowing. He stopped running through her veins, through her head. Her body. The memory of him died as she did.
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 3:46 PM UTC
When I was sent up
on an escalator made of neon lights
I was rapidly unaware of the plunge.
Cut from the bottom of this cup that,
sometimes,
when filled to the brim,
resembles Christmas in Tokyo.
If ever I looked up for plasma Christ
and only felt envy
I will go on to comb the earth
for all the unspun sugar that has settled
down here with me.
Explosive notions teetering on the precipice of my palate
over the edge of the antarctic,
the south pole.
Like a trampoline built over hypothermia and bad vibes
or playing chutes and ladders alone
with limited intermissions for drugs
and the dead.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 2:49 AM UTC
I sat outside for hours last night.
I sat outside under the same July stars
twinkling new under an icy, November moon,
shoulders still bare and hair tied back,
looking for the misplaced summer in an anxious fall.
I didn't find it.
I found cigarette ashes clinging to the fur of my boots.
I found crystalline fog glazed cold to my skin.
I drew childish hearts and arrows in the ghost of my breath
and traced glassy teardrops clinging to sweatshirt sleeves.
I sat outside for hours last night
until even my lungs stiffened with the cold.
My clavicles stung with the prickling of snow
and my fingertips ached with the effort of clinging--
to grass, to wood, to paper, to smoke,
to snowflakes falling through liquid-like air,
to memories, to monsters,
to you and to me.
But I couldn't hold us.
We slipped like water through my clutching hands;
we melted like rocks that never even were.
We dripped, trickled, and fell like rain,
and we evaporated in the blaze
of an ending Indian summer.
I sat outside for hours last night
listening for lost crickets hiding sadly under leaves.
They buried themselves too well for me,
better than you ever will, it seems.
You float, always just under the surface of an endless, salty sea
no matter how much concrete
I pour for your shoes.
You never leave.
But I sat outside for hours last night
perfectly alone.
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC
i wrapped myself in caution tape
but you didn't listen to my warning
you're dying on the side of the road
and i'm flying to space in my rocketship for one
if you could die by hypothermia or drowning,
which would you choose?
the blue hair dye staining my fingers is proof
that i don't have to explain myself
i filled my bathtub with scalding water
and pretended to feel something
all i have left are burn marks on my thighs
and a puddle on the floor
(a.m.c.)
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC