"panicking" poems
I want to hit it hard, not romanticize about the blood ya feel me?
As you read that first line,
when you cross over to the second,
your nose will start to bleed just before my fist connects with your face.
I often dream about it, being feared.
The only reason that you're on the ground is because I put you there.
Quite frankly I'm fearful of myself.
My throat still holds the ache of the alcohol going down.
I swear to you I'm doing better.
I swear.
I can't swear in this house hold so I will talk so quickly creating run on sentences without punctuation or breath because I'm panicking over nothing in particular.
******
Add some shakes to your vocabulary and you've got it right.
My medication puts stray dogs under my finger nails, that's ok because dogs are happiness.
That's supposed to mean I'm happy.
I made myself write this, its horrifyingly scattered just like my head.
That's not right.
That's wrong.
Something is terribly wrong so I must fix it.
That's what I do,
I fix.
I'll just look at this as art.
Some persons trash is another ones treasure.
I'm too scared to write anymore.
This is garbage.
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC
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
When I am in statistics I cannot focus
because the world around me is ending in my mind
slowly fading into something without meaning
until I cannot breathe and I have to leave
to go cry in the bathroom.
When I am in my statistics class I cannot focus
because there is a boy there who looks like my favorite **** star
I know what his ***** looks like
or might look like
Schrödinger's **** in a box.
I cannot help but stare at him and
picture him in gym shorts and no boxers
or cargo pants and no boxers
or just in boxers
or.
It's an uncomfortable feeling of morbid intrigue that
makes me tap my toes too fast.
I want to know him.
I want to tell him that
I love the way he smiles
and laughs and communicate s
and makes sure everyone is safe and happy.
I can only watch **** that has behind-the-scenes features.
It's comforting to know that
everyone is happy and
everything is consensual and
everyone is having fun.
I get too invested in these people, too attached -
One time I had to give up
and take a moment to breath
because I was just so overwhelmed with pride
Like a parent watching their kid graduate after all their hard work.
And that feeling is not okay.
And seeing that boy in my class is not okay,
Because I feel so proud of all he's accomplished
So when he answers a question right in class all I can think about is
When he ****** a **** on camera for the first time
And the first time he licked whipped cream off another man's *******
And it's very distracting.
When I am in statistics I cannot focus
because I start to worry that I will fail this class
and then I start to worry that I will hate my future
and then I worry about having a future in the first place,
bunching up into an unfocused, panicking, asthmatic mess.
The **** star boy is a distraction.
It's because of him that I'm passing this class.
( and in a way, a stupid, silly way,
it's because of him that I'm alive. )
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 12:27 PM UTC
summer in the park
kids hopscotching on pavement
dad checking email
the oldest known song
carved on a lover's tombstone
- “pretty much YOLO”
digital tombstone
her face no longer ages
she is immortal
relaxed at the beach
at home - panicking mother
phone dwells in the lake
so long out of touch
childhood friends reunited
- thank god for Tinder!
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 1:33 PM UTC
I took too many busporine,
But I'm still anxious.
I'm still ******* freaked.
I'm still nervously shaking.
I'm still sputtering about.
I'm still worried why you haven't opened my message.
I know this whole thing is new.
I know you're probably sleeping.
I know you have a life outside of me.
I know you sometimes need a break from me.
But my anxiety doesn't.
My anxiety doesn't get that you're busy.
Anxiety doesn't get that you're sleeping.
Anxiety doesn't get that maybe you just want some space.
Anxiety doesn't get that I didn't do anything wrong,
And that your feelings for me haven't changed.
Anxiety is scared.
Anxiety is panicking.
Anxiety is popping one too many pills.
Anxiety is crying and trying not to cut again.
Anxiety is worrying that you've found someone else.
Anxiety is worried that you're out with them now and just ignoring me until you're ***** later tonight.
Jesus Christ, Anxiety.
Give me a break,
Quit giving me a battle.
Jesus ******* Christ, Anxiety.
Take a deep breath,
Try to stay rational.
Jesus ******* Christ, Anxiety.
I'm trying to salvage a relationship here,
And ruin the one I have with you.
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 3:41 PM UTC
.
Quiet! Shhh!
Can you hear it?
The animals are talking.
No, they are panicking.
Can you smell it?
The Forest is on fire.
My Forest is aflame!
I run, following nostrils singed with heat,
against the tide of the fleeing fauna.
Reaching the blaze I see....
eight of them.
My anger rises and erupts.
'STOP!' I bellow. They turn and draw swords.
My eyes narrow and a look of pure disdain unfolds.
I continue.
'I am Rook, Lord of the Forest Kingdom.
How dare you, enter my domain with no permission
and reek havoc on my Forest'.
A step is taken, toward me.
The eyes of a fighter glower, at me.
The point of a sword raises, threatening me.
I punish.
'For your transgressions and your destruction
you shall stand as stones, for eternity,
and as a warning to others'.
A scream pierces the air as a foot,
then another, compresses to rock.
The rest join the chorus, agony,
as each become statues,
twisted and contorted as
the Ancient Oaks they had destroyed.
My Oaks.
This is my Anger.
Would you care to see my Love?
© Pagan Paul (2018)
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 9:40 AM UTC
i give them my executables and
ask them to reverse engineer me
to look into my code for reasons
reasons that i'm not just broken
not just slow
not just bad
if these letters
on this line
mean
that i am programmed to worry
then it is not my fault
not my fault that
i have wasted years
years of my life in fear
it's just a bug
looping too many times
using too many clock cycles
my code may be broken, but
if it is broken
then i am not
maybe, just maybe
i am a good processor
given bad code.
not my fault.
no one could blame me.
it would mean
i do what i am told to
perfectly
quickly
efficiently.
but
what i am told to do is
buggy
unoptimized
inefficient
my programmers are lazy -
not me.
when i find
a function in my code
that never works
and they say
"that code is fine"
then why?
why does it never run?
something must be wrong with me after all
me, myself, the processor
i don't do what i am told
but no, no, no
i don't want that
i can't be broken, overheating, dusty
segfaulting
bluescreening
panicking
no!
the code must be wrong
it must be
so i look again and again and again
i lose myself in my code
i click and click and click
2x more and 2x more and 2x more
COMT and DRD4 and ANKK1
rs53576 and rs7794745 and rs1858830
lower risk and normal risk and higher risk
of the same thing
in me at once
conflicting
overwriting each other
there is no code to add risk objects
and no one knows
whether
they make a group or a ring or a field
or just
something
useless.
like dividing by zero.
you can...
but it's useless in the real world.
just like me.
i look for more code
for more functions
for more comments
more more more
give me more
take my rights
make me open source
as long as i can see me too.
602,000 lines are not enough
not when i run millions
stick your wires in my veins
take the code from my blood
decompile it
untangle it
i need to see it all
i need to know
that i am a good little processor
even if i am doomed to
forever
run BASIC and
a million GOTO statements
and ugly ugly spaghetti code
i am still good.
Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 5:43 PM UTC
Have you ever been under the influence so long
That when you are forced to stop
To come up for air
Everything feels
Unfamiliar?
Sobriety chokes you
Traps you
Makes your heart race
Like a Chinese finger trap
You voluntarily entered into,
But now feel as though you might not escape.
The sober life is what you strive for
Long for
Dream of
Everyone around you encourages,
You can do it
One day at a time
They say
Attempting to motivate
Inspire
Help
But these are all lies
A mere hour of sobriety is too much to handle
It suffocates
Makes my hands shake
And my mind go crazy
DRINKDRINKDRINKDRINKDRINKINEEDAFUCKINGDRINKNOWGODPLEASE
This phrase repeats itself,
Over and over
No matter how many times you tell yourself
ICANDOTHIS
You know
It’s only another lie in the endless stream of pathetic, useless encouragement
You have created for yourself.
And after you say this,
ICANDOTHIS
You laugh
Knowing that it is absolutely
UNTRUE
And always will be
How can you embrace sobriety
When the bottle calls from its hiding place
The place you hid it
From your lover, family, friends
Pretending you function
Just like all of them
Waking up
Going about your life
Without panicking about when the next drink will be
When the drinks you need
Will **** you
If anyone will even notice
Or care.
Probably not,
Why should they,
Do you?
You never have.
Your life is an endless series of drinks and lies, and more drinks
And more lies.
You are nothing.
An empty cup
Waiting to be filled with the substance that will distract you from living
And then take your worthless life in the end.
Alcoholic
Forever
Unfixable.
Stop wasting our time.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 12:23 PM UTC
I wake up feeling like nothing is real
and my heart beats
and I'm panicking
and I'm sweating
and I want to die
I don't really understand why I cry
If I could just get over it, I promise you I would
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 2:04 AM UTC
My mind was pulsing
with endless subtly shaded descriptors
and shockwave verbs,
when a pop-up alert flashed
red and yellow and blue…
YOU HAVE ONLY 9 WORDS LEFT !
ACT NOW !!!
YOUR LIFETIME ALLOTMENT IS 20,000,000,010 WRITTEN WORDS,
AND.........YOU HAVE USED 20,000,000,001.
ACT NOW OR LOSE YOUR RIGHT TO WRITE FOREVER!
BUT WAIT !!!!!!
COMPLETE THE SIMPLE FORM BELOW IN THE NEXT 60 SECONDS
AND WE’LL DOUBLE YOU TO 40 BILLION MORE.
IMAGINE ALL THE SHIMMERING ADJECTIVES, THICK NOUNS,
CLEVER ADVERBS AND PITHY PRONOUNS YOU WILL HAVE!!!!!!!!!
Panicking, I clicked on the form
and furiously typed …
William Shakespeare
10 Henley Street Village South
Statford Upon . . . . . .
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 7:29 AM UTC
You get the know it alls
Their noses stuck rigidly in books like bookmarks
You get the geeks
Gamers with eyes shrunk; shiny braces flashing
You get the quiet ones
Assessing everything going on; owlish blinks
You get the cheeky ones
Hilarious antics all around; always surprising
You get the nosy ones
With obnoxious questions and averting eyes
You get the prissy neat freaks
Panicking religiously over messes; loud moaner
You get the bossy buck tooth's
Spit spraying whilst barking out orders; drone-like
You get the wannabes
*Prepping up as the popular chicks; total **** ups*
And you get me
With total judgement and disdain evident
Making me a **classic ***** ; plastic
With her typical high school stereotypes
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 5:35 AM UTC
My phone drops from my hands,
All my body's strength ebbs away.
I have to lie down so I don't fall down
Because my legs can't support my body weight.
And then I'm staring
At the whitewashed walls and ceiling
Of my furniture-filled bedroom
And suddenly the panic sets in.
Everything is too tight, too close, too much.
I need to get out of here.
I need to breathe
But I can't because all I can think about
Is you.
Your words.
Your life.
Your choices.
And as I lay there sweating cold bullets of fear,
I wonder why I'm panicking.
It was just another email.
A general update to no one in particular.
One of the ones you always send out
To everyone because you still think we care.
You didn't say a single word about anyone else.
Four whole pages of you.
And I guess that's why I'm struggling to breathe.
It's like I never existed to you.
It's like you never cared about me.
And suddenly the need to see you
To talk to you
To hold you
To laugh, to cry, to just simply be
With you
Overwhelms me.
Not the you who wrote that email.
Not the you who you think you are now.
The you who doesn't even acknowledge her own offspring.
No, I'm desperate to touch the you
Who I know is locked away in a part
So deeply hidden in your soul
That you've forgotten about her.
The you who still knows a mother's love
For her daughter.
I want to see the unclouded eyes,
Hear the unselfish voice,
Touch the compassionate soul
Of the amazing woman who birthed me.
But I'm so afraid that you've finally done it.
That you've finally killed off
The last vestiges of her soul
With the darkness of your own.
I panic with the truth that faces me:
I'll really never be able to see her again.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC
I can feel the gravity
savage sadness grabbing me
like a stabbing agony
panicking heartbeat rapidly
like a drastic atrophy
my own tapestry of travesty
applicable calamity
catastrophe is my canopy
the faculty of tragedy
with no strategy for amnesty
the laxity of sanity
I can feel the gravity
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 4:57 PM UTC
Dear future daughter,
I’m writing to you a letter,
Because one day you’ll need this advice,
And it’s worth a certain price,
It’s worth the price of lessons,
The ones that make you think,
You’ve been running in the wrong directions,
And stop making you see life in pink,
First thing you need to know,
Is that sometimes you need to let go,
Even if it doesn’t feel right,
It just as well might,
Most of the time the things that feel good,
Aren’t the things that should,
That’s why you should never harm your wrist,
‘Cause then I’ll just be ******
Second thing to keep in mind,
Is to always be kind,
Because the girl you laugh at with much glory,
May have lived a terrible story,
Ask her what her day was like,
The strangest people have the greatest things to tell,
Even if their stories seem like they came straight from hell,
Trust me it won’t be an experience you will dislike,
Third thing I want to tell you,
Is that one day you’ll meet a boy,
And the idea of you two,
Will be one that brings joy,
And one day he might leave,
And it will make you believe,
That nobody will stay,
But trust me it won’t always be that way,
Fourth thing I want to say,
Is that it’s okay,
To give yourself pleasure,
And to give youself some leisure,
Sometimes it’s a necessity,
Because you schoolwork is driving you crazy,
And in that moment you’re panicking,
But your schoolwork isn’t more important than your own being,
Last thing I want to say,
Is that life does not count itself it breaths,
It counts itself in the moments that take it away,
People with short life enjoy it this way before their deaths,
So go on and make your life worth living,
And make it worth sharing,
Because you never know when,
It might end,
Dear future daughter,
Please consider everything I have written in this letter,
Trust me when I say without a doubt,
That your future mother knows what she’s talking about.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 4:17 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
There she is
Beautiful, as always
The one who left
The woman who abandoned me
Here I am
Panicking
Trembling
Grasping for air
And in that split moment
I ask myself
If Love were in my situation,
What would Love do?
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 9:46 PM UTC
Which variation do you choose to throttle blows
Squeeze your nostril collect that head fluid
Your mental eradicates nasal liquid
Nose running swinging like a bungee jump
Panicking searching for the tissue clump
Dangling like the Tarzan on a jungle vine
Hand eye coordination catch that snot on time
My nose got that stutter drip
Watch when i sneeze flying lighting manumits
When the nose pouring stops
I was only dreaming pops
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 12:15 PM UTC
Which variation do you choose to throttle blows
Squeeze your nostril collect that head fluid
Your mental eradicates nasal liquid
Nose running like a bungee jump
Panicking searching for the tissue clump
Dangling like Tarzan on a jungle vine
Hand eye coordination catch that snot on time
My nose got that stutter drip
Watch when I sneeze flying lightning manumits
When the nose pouring stops
I realise I was only dreaming pops
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 7:08 PM UTC
I can't, I can't, I can't
Breathe
Don't get the blades.
It's okay that you ate,
If he comes back...
Stop panicking.
Calm down. Calm down.
I can't, I can't, I can't
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC
He was calm
But he was drowning
And i was panicking
Trying to save him
He thought he could swim away
From all his problems
But he only ended up
Diving deeper into them
And i'm losing my breath for you
But i dont think that i could save us
Dont let go of me
But hold on
At least one of us wont drown alone
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
Too many bottles of this wine we can't pronounce
Too many bowls of that green, no lucky charms
The maids come around too much
Parents ain't around enough
Too many joy rides in daddy's jaguar
Too many white lies and white lines
Super rich kids with nothing but loose ends
Super rich kids with nothing but fake friends
Start my day up on the roof
There's nothing like this type of view
Point the clicker at the tube
I prefer expensive news
New car, new girl
New ice, new glass
New watch, good times babe
It's good times, yeah
She wash my back three times a day
This shower head feels so amazing
We'll both be high, the help don't stare
They just walk by, they must don't care
A million one, a million two
A hundred more will never do
Real love, I'm searching for a real love
Real love, I'm searching for a real love
Oh, real love
Close your eyes for what you can't imagine, we are the xany gnashing
Caddy smashing, bratty *** he mad, he snatched his daddy's Jag
And used the **** for batting practice, adamant and he thrashing
Purchasing ****** grams with half the hand of cash you handed
Panicking, patch me up, Pappy done latch keyed us
Toying with Raggy Anns and mammy done had enough
Brash as **** breaching all these aqueducts; don't believe us
Treat us like we can't erupt, yup
We end our day up on the roof
I say I'll jump, I never do
But when I'm drunk I act a fool
Talking 'bout , do they sew wings on tailored suits
I'm on that ledge, she grabs my arm
She slaps my head
It's good times, yeah
Sleeve rips off, I slip, I fall
The market's down like 60 stories
And some don't end the way they should
My silver spoon has fed me good
A million one, a million cash
Close my eyes and feel the crash
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 12:06 AM UTC
They have difficulty keeping eye contact
Because she says it's like everything stops,
Including time,
And it was just so precious.
As if they didn't know if they should smile
Or say hi or give a nod signaling a hey,
But she ends up panicking and runs away.
As if she was Cinderella.
When it was almost midnight.
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 2:04 AM UTC
My lips are moving but my brain is not
I've got my smile handy, I'll never be caught
I'm nervous but it'll never show on my face
I'll pretend I fit, I belong in this place.
My hands aren't clammy, I don't have a stutter
My voice is steady though my legs are rubber
I'm sitting down, no one gets to see
I'm nervous, I'm unsure, but I can fake happy.
I'm an actor, a professional, I'm perfect at what I do
I'm smiling, I'm laughing, but, god, how I hate you.
I fly through moods as though it's my sole purpose
I go by an alias so no one knows I wrote this.
I'm nervous, I'm nervous, I'm ******* terrified
But far be it from me to be typically traumatized
I'm a 'survivor', I'm doing just fine, I'm not panicking
I'll never display the bad moments publicly.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 9:10 AM UTC
He comes for me when I'm sleeping,
He comes for me when I'm awake,
He won't stop freaking obsessing,
My heart cannot get a break,
Why won't he leave me be,
Can't he see my panicking,
He's everywhere I can see,
He won't ever let me free,
I feel my throat closing in,
He'll just revive me over again,
I can't leave him alone anyway,
He can't leave me be for my sake,
Harder to **** every single day,
Distraction is key but I won't get my way.
My mind's a murderer,
A real ******
Imagine being locked up,
Somewhere inside limbo,
Not being allowed to freeze,
**** near hard to breathe,
For my sake, I need some peace,
My mind doesn't know how to cease.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 1:09 AM UTC