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Gillian Askeland Jan 2019
You are my Thanatophobia.

I fear to lose you.

My love.

Best friend.

The one who fills that empty void in my soul.

The one who fixed my heart.

You are my Thanatophobia.

-Gillian Askeland
Ashley Nicole Mar 2015
You know you're happy with life
When you finally fear death
Happy days
Max Southwood Jul 2015
Death, the here long after!
Or do I mean the long here after?
I don’t really know…what a strange thing death is.
Consciousness is like a stream they say
Never really believed them until now
For my thoughts do run like a river (Styx?)
Right through the valley where the shadow of Death walks
That’s right…Death doesn’t ride.
He ******* walks like the rest of us
Blistered feet, soles of the dead can get blisters
And they do! I’ve seen them!
And at the bottom of their souls lies desire
Desire for an answer, for purpose
Never content even when an answer does find them, finds us
We keep on looking
Keep on walking
We waste our lives as worrying wanderers
Walking hand in hand with Death as we realize…
We’re already dead
I write most of my poetry using the Stream of Consciousness technique. I start writing and whatever comes out comes out. The more I write, the more I realize I have a weird fixation on, and maybe even a fear of, death.
Jacob Oates Jun 2014
I

am

not afraid

of birth

People seem to fear

losing this chaotic

fight to the world

I see no fear in the newborn

I see screams owing nothing

I see a cry out to declare

"Yes I am alive, I exist"

and calm settles in after life's first breath

I

am

not afraid

of middle age

the ego death

the rending of the self

and the questions bombarded asking me

"is any of this all worth it?"

As I see many people on the path

of anxiety

I can't help but wonder

how one can fear death

if they worry so much about life being worth it

One doesn't worry about being robbed of

an empty bank account

They seek instead to fill it

to save

to leave something behind for loved ones
Miguel Oct 2018
In texts so normal we find
Unraveled yarns they left behind
To swallow a dry pill that bruises a dream
It tends to be the easiest of things

I’ve left my yarn in tranquil holes
Dug so deep and filled with snow
Underneath lie the bodies of old
I tell myself
Who could have known?

Mended with gauze and fixed with scraps
The vessel caves in and the flies come back
The whither and tremble of a soft human hand
Which quivers so lightly through weakened grasps

I ask this old woman now barely stable
Did your yarn precede the marvel
Of a young child, bold and able?
Did it graze him and make him wiser?
Powdered bone you hid under covers

How the leaves and meadows of your memories
Reach for both ankles, pushing you gently
Towards a beckoning boney finger that urges you closer
Will such saccharine visions bury six feet under?
So it goes

The yarns unravel now, as they always have  
From birth to the backwards prance of descent
She holds me, whispering me her loves, her life
And my tears unfurl with hers as I ache, hearing such words
Who could have known?
EP Mason May 2014
Everybody's running
running
jumping to their deaths
I can't stop peering into lakes
and being haunted by the depth
the sea wants to take me
the sun wants to set
but I'm so torn between
drowning
and not leaving
just
yet
© Erin Mason 2014
Katie P Apr 2014
In the past
I have feared death greatly.
The idea of death was
not my friend. The
idea of death caused
me to be afraid and
I could not evade
it.  My problem was
that I did not
understand the
inevitability of death;
the necessity and
freedom that stem
from death.
Although a brutal
or untimely death
would be tragic, there
still lies a common
thread in mortality.
I do not fear the idea
as much anymore.
**Life is what should be feared more.
Rebecca Gismondi Oct 2015
The

parlour empties after the third song.
You tell me

you need a cigarette and dump the accordion on my lap.
The fog seeps in as you

open the front door
and I worry because you’re wearing black.

I worry because you’ve never offered me a cigarette
or asked

to go for a walk at midnight.
The champagne sticks to my fingers
and I wished I’d grabbed your hand
and said
“I’ll go with you.”
Emily Miller Oct 2017
Tick, tock,
Thump, thump,
As the minutes go by,
The heartbeats seem to grow more strained.
Up at night,
Pacing,
Moving,
Weary from the constant movement,
Never resting,
I sit,
A temporary reprieve,
And then up again.
Walking,
Waiting,
Listening,
Terrified,
That at any point,
I could stop and wait to hear what I always hear,
And it will be silent.
Hushed is the house,
Creaking in slumber,
Like a great breath in the foundation,
And all else is silent to my broken ears,
Save the ringing when I strain to hear,
The inhale,
Exhale,
Of my loves ones.
I go to each door and stand,
As still as can be,
Watching for the rise of the chest,
A stirring hand,
A fluttering eyelid,
To remind me-
They are here,
They breathe,
Their hearts beat.
Every night,
I cannot rest,
Haunting the hallways,
Peering around doors,
And I wait,
Impatiently,
For dawn,
For the time when life is clear,
And the nightmare of death can be put to rest,
And only when the sun rises
And my beloved speak
And laugh
And move,
Can my restless limbs,
And shallow breath,
Be put to rest,
With the moon.
Fish The Pig Sep 2013
There is a line
between
pain and
pleasure.
But when that line blurs-
When the pleasure overthrows
your inhibitions
and the pain numbs your body,
When pain becomes pleasure
and pleasure becomes pain,
how do you know when to stop.

I glorify it.
I crave the taste
of the sickness.
of the disease rippling across my skin,
boiling in my veins
and flowing through my blood.

Is it Healthy?
I love you,
I love it,
but is it healthy
To walk the streets at night
in constant fear
not only of what lurks in the shadows
but of you too.

Anorexic bodies
falling all around us.
Mine included.
Skinnier by the day,
yellow nails chipping and peeling,
grinding of the teeth
to procure a never ending headache.

Pale skin;
cold to the touch
from lack of circulation.
Weak in your arms
an intoxicated mind
and a heart struck through with daggers.

Blasting screams
and beats
to block out the world
and create a throbbing in our heads.
Your freak show;
My guilty little pleasure.

So sick
So satanic
So tenebrific
So twisted
so disturbed
so disgusting
so beautiful
so broken.

cradled by poison,
hold me in your arms,
a monster in the shadows
with thanatognomonic eyes.

With my thanatophobia
You manage to keep me alive.

You do it to feel the pain,
as a confirmation that you're still alive,
But I do it to feel nothing,
to feel all this pain
all these repressed emotions
disappear.

Overall we do it to stay alive,
and shred away
our pitiful sorrows
one by one,
piece by piece.
For inch by inch
we come closer
to meeting the same
fate
of our cold,
useless,
easily forgotten bodies
lying on a metal slab.
Soon to be greeted
by the maltreated Earth.
Lvice Sep 2018
There was no fear
of death in life,

but the subconscious
understands fear,

and I was afraid
to slip away in  my sleep.
Mouse Jan 2018
It dwells in alleyways of silhouettes
In clicking sounds in cars
In storms where the wind seems to
Take away your breath

It lives within a stranger’s smile
In a tight grip on the shoulder
In footsteps following you and
Speeding up when your heart
Begins to race.

It is beautiful. It is sudden. It lingers.

It is the spinning, twirling confusion
That leaves you stuck within a
Bubble of white-cold, unsure
Of which direction to go.

All is silent and the

Eerie stillness one feels
With their toes peeking over the edge
Falling, the air whipping about them.
Down
Down
Down

Into the icy depths of liquid

Limbs are heavy, body and mind exhausted
Lungs restricting, pleading for a bite of air
But all you taste is

Fluid

Dripping from your wounds
As you push open your crumpled
Car door, shaking and crying, still
Clutching the phone in your

Hands

Clutching yours, murmured whispers
Of cryptic regret, of cherished moments.
You aged body sinks into the bed
Your grip loosens on theirs
And despite this peaceful end
Your brain screams

Survive! Survive! Survive!
Live! Live! Live!

As you sink into
Six-foot deep holes and
Into dark alleyways
Of silhouettes.
Cc Mar 2021
I am so scared to be alive
How is it possible to fear the very concept of life
I am breathing and I am alive and I am scared to stop doing that.
But to call it a fear of death? That would feel cheap.
I am not afraid of dying, I’m afraid of living.
K Aug 2020
Is this what death feels like?
It’s the last thought on my mind when I wake
The first thought of a new life.
Maybe I was wrong
sometimes life feels so like death I can’t distinguish them
Delta Swingline Apr 2017
Any day now, I'm either gonna **** somebody, or end up dead myself.

Dramatic, I know.

And hey, maybe nobody will take me seriously when I say that.

Figures.

So far, the only people who give a **** are the people who believe I'm still a good person. And I'm not saying they're wrong, I'm just saying it doesn't matter to me if they're right.

Because I don't feel I deserve anything.

I can never focus on anything. I'm writing this because I should be doing other work right now. But when I'm not thinking about this, I'm overworking, or sleeping, or crying again, or shouting again.

I feel physically sick just being in this much pain. It's never gonna be driven out of my body until I get a **** miracle.

But those aren't really coming my way.

If karma is responsible for all of this than haven't I endured enough? Something needs to break the cycle. Or I just have to break. Act out, get expelled or suspended, consider the empty possibility of my thanatophobia finally leaving me.

I stopped caring about myself when an old enemy decided to step in and come after me. But the remarkable thing is that I handled it without attracting more trouble. That doesn't mean it didn't pain me to set myself aside to do so.

I'm not a complete pacifist. And my dangerous nature only gets stronger when left unquestioned by all. So yeah, I'm scared as hell of myself. But then again, so are other people.
I hate this.
Delta Swingline Dec 2017
I felt so sad as I took a jar of paper stars from the top shelf of my school locker and held it close to my chest as I walked down the halls and I knew you were watching... Arden.

You just didn't do anything.

You knew what it was like to cling to life the same way you hung from death, like it was some kind of sick game. However, this is not a one player kind of match now, is it?

I powerwalked through the halls once, wanting so much to die. I had no plans, just a few ideas. You know, I didn't consider hanging myself in my mind to be a "plan to die" because I didn't actually write out the plans, I just thought about them a little too much.

I answered "No." when asked if I made plans to **** myself, because in my mind, I really didn't make plans.


When asked if I was homicidal, I don't remember what I said, but I remember not saying "no". I remember that I've imagined punishing people, but never killing people. I want to hold their lives in my grasp and hear them apologize like they actually mean it.

But I am too nice for that. Too Christian for that.

It takes a strong person to lift weights, but a stronger one to lift the personal weight off your own back.

I've thought about retiring my poetry career 10 years too early, not even making it to my mid-twenties before quitting simply because there were too many people too eager to get offended at my work.

I will not play innocent to your sickly made games.

I am no fool.

Although, I will not retire my poetry career just yet. Because every time I feel the urge to quit, I am here at 3:22am writing long strings of poetry.

Arden's gonna have a fricken sleeve of tattoos.
Alex is gonna have pain.
Baer is gonna have me taking care of her sister.

But who really cares about that? Because Arden's gonna have something.

Arden has friends,

education,
teachers,
a job,
a life.

Arden's gonna have love.

Arden's gonna have ******' love.


Alex is not going to beg for my jaw unhinged from all the fighting.
Alex will not bend.
No sir.


Baer has hired me as the worlds worst babysitter, and her sister, only a few years younger than I already holds me to a higher standard than most.

But Arden has more to life than me.

There's no comparison.

I too, want to die when I'm not staying up this late to escape my thanatophobia.

I will not live to see Arden's graduation.

But I will live to see the hurricane that comes after it.

I don't feel special Baer.

But no one really needs to know that.
..
Babatunde Raimi Nov 2019
There is a good day to die
But not today
I could hear their heartbeats
As they clung to their chests
I saw different shades of rosary
Chants of "Allahu"rented the air
Then it crossed my mind
Is it today?

We all want to make heaven
But none wants to die
This doomsday seems close
As hyperventilation set in
Why should a man wield so much?
To determine who lives and doesn't
Still, like a serpent
I stayed calm

I should have written my will
Many portray it as a death sentence
But it only makes me responsible
It is not a death sentence
What happens to my dependants?
Will death defray my responsibilities to them?
Maybe I should have gotten life insurance
Better have it and not need it
Than need it and not have it

Now it seems closer
I could feel me tense
Sweating and trembling
Suddenly I heard a voice
Peace, be still
This too shall pass away
For I am with you
Who are you i queried
This time with a louder voice
I am, the "I Am That I Am"

My covenant will I not break
For your sake, your chariot is preserved
My Angels are with you
Just let not your heart be troubled
And your eyes single
I will do it again
If the heart of kings is in My hands
Is there anything to hard for Me?

Panic attacks vanished
We conquered thanatophobia
As the time cometh
Those sons of perdition  approached
Suddenly, they turned on themselves
Just like the days of old
They left the way they came
His words did He not break
For today, not a good day to die!
Delta Swingline Dec 2017
Music is not a weapon I wield with such grace these days.

It's mostly a necessary thing I try to master in the comfort of my own room.

A new year, a new start. Or at least it seems that way. I don't really care to know where I'm going to start over in this new year.

My hands feel frail and coarse, like they've never gone swimming, or like they've always gone swimming.

I barely type with the swiftness I used to. My arms grow tired, and I grow just as tired. I am not myself these days, but these days are getting longer and longer.

I fear my death most nights.

Thanatophobia is a type of illness unlike insomnia, but similar no doubt.

Every day I wish you were here to hold my hand, but when I ask what will I do without you here, you tell me "I'm honestly going to be fine."

What part of that is fine anyway?

But you're right.

I shouldn't cling to you as much as I do.

I said before in a previous poem that I didn't want to scare you away while trying to be a friend.

I just hurt so often and pray so little.

Falling apart while you move away and yet, there is no safe haven for people like me.

But people like you seem to think the I'm okay.

And I wonder every day...

Why you think so.
Baer
Chapter VII
Sheesham's Staff  

Vernarth lies reclining on Sheesham's bunk beds of fire. Wood and Incense with ultra sensory olfactory powers, to design elemental and supernatural hearts, to house and be adaptable to hyper connectivity. In the Hindu religion, the akasha is the foundation and essence of all things in the material world; the first palpable and concrete material element created by the god Brahmá (air, fire, water, earth are the others). It is one of the classic elements of Hinduism, pañcha-majá-bhuta or ‘five great elements’; its main feature is sabda (sound). In Sanskrit this word means "space". In other Indian languages this word is conceptualized as "heaven".
It is the physical and eternal substance Akasha, of the ether that flows through the Akasha-Nautas, of each parapsychological regression. Vernarth takes a staff called "Sheesham's Cane", which he acquired while eager to deliver it to his beloved Tuscany in the Cathedral of Santa Maria dei Fiori, in one of his Regressive Lives.

They awaited him, stunned by the tyrannized force of the nobles in Florence, from which he was once again delayed by the barley and fatuous gods, close to Porcellino. He waited long hours for his beloved Madalena to come out of the Eucharistic ceremony. While he carried his staff in his right hand and a rectangular box for his hand on the left, inside he carried essences of potpourri of lavender and vellorita, a ring with amethyst stone covered by a concave gold bolus. In the supra-circular contour he wore medieval silver Etrurian ornaments from the Feast of Past Barley.

Vernarth is intubated with his therapist of the Veda typology, by the Samiama preferred to his meditation, concentration and Samadhi to merge with the universe and travel his Life until the end of Gaugamela (his most vigorous Regressive Life), while he was on his virtual journey Akashico walk the gods, disrupting his senses beyond all. Etrestles took a zither sounding the merits of the ear by prolonging his hearing of white cloaks and stereo silence. It leads them to the desired state of mind, such as the set of affects and emotions.

The fear of death is a somewhat natural concoction in the human being, although in too deep cases it constitutes a phobia (thanatophobia) that requires non-addictive treatment. But even when that phobia does not exist, but regression under hypnosis is sometimes traveling to the near and distant point of the Sun on its elliptical, almost getting lost in our galaxy, like the earth in its aphelion.
So in this way our great hero continues to travel in eternity, he never dies! For his life is a multi-dimensional regressive, to eternally navigate and ride through the scrolls of history with Alexander Magnus. Both sitting in Lotus on the Gordian Knot.


Past life experiences can be attributed to genetic inheritance, Akashic records, universal consciousness, telepathy, fantasies, or memories of readings or movies. As his mother Luccica brought, conceiving your son, very young of only 22 years, supposedly dying in a vascular accident, a fact that breaks the chain of genetic descent and allows us to suppose that there would be extra-cerebral memory. But it is reborn in Florence, Macedonia and Sudpichi and Gaugamela.

Names, places and dates can help to discern if it is a fantasy or a real experience. To accept it as such, it is recommended to check at least six matching data, such as names, dates, country, language, customs, weather, clothing, etc ... Many people ignored the dates or the name of the place where they lived. This makes it very difficult to verify such data, except in very few cases, so the lack of historical data does not necessarily constitute proof that they are frauds or fantasies of the hypnotized person. But this unforgettable feat of 331 b.C, is a date where Bacchus swallowed the history of the Universe at once. There is nothing left here, not to remember and much less to re-fiddle the citations of the Gods exhuming the brief metaphysical times that scent their intuitions.

Names: Vernarth Prince of Sudpichi, of the Horcondising Empire, of the Talamite Celestial Hymn.
Date: in the year of one of October 331 B.C.
Coordinates: 36 ° 21′36 ″ N, 43 ° 15′0 ″ E In decimal 36.36 °, 43.25 °
Country: Chile - Ancient Persia - Babylon
Language: Mapudungun, Hellenic and Persian.
Customs: Military consequence, phalanx, cavalry, archers and siege weapons such as Sarisa among others.
Climate: Autumn, dry and temperate climate. Little to hide.
Clothing: Exomis and war costumes. Agema elite guards, shields, Phrygian line helmets and multiple infantry shells.

Alexander Commanders:
Vernarth: First Commander of Heavy, Light and Thessalonian Infantry. Others, Hephaestion, Crater, Parmenio, Ptolemy, Perdiccas, Antígono, Clito, Nearchus, Seleuco, Ariston, Simias, Ceno, Ariston, Glaucias, Sopolis.

Thus in the post-equinox period of 331 B.C. Vernarth, he proclaimed himself a faithful Macedonian soldier, in the barbarian fields in Tel Gomel. And its circular deployment is destined to its epic rooted in this feat of being a unique part and valued by his therapist Walekira, attending to all the symptoms of this displacement due to a renowned parapsychological regression, which he never thought he would reach his origins as a Macedonian militia.

Wlakiria playing a flute from the elder ensemble, he readied himself for the ****** lines to keep him tied to his choir choir of the Bumodos. He would begin with the last sessions to supply them with the liquids through his veins, to take him to the advanced snatched bastions, where he lay upright, but with his head on the backwash of his headaches and touch-ups of approach to the lagoon of the Five Golden Swans that they agreed to his graft as the whipping commander of the Achaemenids.

Ellipses Gaugamela / Vernarth approaches:

Darius confused with the strength of the forces that came from Vernarth, resorted in the same way as in Issos, he has no other choice but to flee, causing the disbandment of his own by the lacerating wounds caused by the branches of Sauco, which were the branches of his arms numb, but guillotining. Every time a cavalryman turned to see who was following him, a sword appeared cutting their heads. . The Macedonian victory at Gaugamela is final. Alejandro is at the peak of his power looking from the sky. Now he has the clear path to advance toward the very heart of his enemy, the weakened Persian Empire.

After Gaugamela, Babylon was easily subdued. In Persia the cities of Susa, Persepolis, where Alexander burned down the Royal Palace and Pasargada succumbed one after another. In the spring of 330 B.C., Alexander resumed his march after Darius to Media. Upon reaching Ecbatana, Darius had slipped away again, taking refuge in Bactriana. Vernarth was surprised by the great general with a monumental average Sarisa spear, piercing a hundred soldiers with various spears, which one by one gently added to his hands stuffing them beyond his hands.

Alejandro Magnus said to him: beyond your strength there will be a day of knowing how to be a politician or a general to dominate the fear of the brave who shout with fear and not the cowards who shout with Courage!

Etrestles says: Although in the time I have lived in Messolonghi, I managed to be close to Scipio, as an official of the Roman State, I must compare him to your Son of Zeus, who undoubtedly at different times with a century of difference from General Scipio caudillo turned almost into a Great one, like Alexander…. I have to allow myself to simulate you in the parallel time that passes.

Replicates Vernarth: Yes Brother of good luck! The territories will be massacred. And there is no time or brave dimension to protect them. Scipio, undoubtedly comes from Messolonghi (Koumeterium Messolonghi / blessed Holy field of all heroes of all dimensions of time on earth and No), to warn us about the excesses that spray tiredness to those who are not to sleep, hunger and thirst to those who do not consume. But bravery to those who rise from the field in by the wheatfield shepherds irrigated by young sorceresses to raise Hellenic morale, from Medea perhaps to break the verb poetic with the Staff of Sheesham, to shake the earth and awaken those who need other sorceresses to awaken their consciousness and senses.

Alejandro Magnus, Etrestles and Vernarth; the three are each taken from the wood, which is the verse that supports them embedded. The infinity is painted lapis lazuli, the three look at each other and expand the chandeliers that hold them under the sky with Orion room light, whose golden ratio, as a result of the three numbers joined, the equation will tend to reflect the union of three kingdoms of divine reign.

"This communion is merged for itself for everything that is not concrete in a vague world"

To be continued… / under edition
Sheesham's Staff
cms Aug 2021
in 2008 i got given a dictionary
a prize for being able to go to high school
and only recently have i learned of words
that they would think are too cruel

i would call 2013 me an eccedentesiast
bet you don't even know what that means
it's a person who fakes a smile
i only didn't watching my computer screen

afraid of death and afraid of dying
i have been since i was thirteen
that's called thanatophobia
it means something awful to me

don't call me ordinary or i'll get koinophobia
fear of the very phrase and definition
an ordinary life, one i won't be satisfied
with if i died, an unsuccessful mission

someone who understood all the words
without a google search
wouldn't be friends with me
but i could make it work

language is complex no matter what
one that you've known since birth
and if i'm gonna be true to my word
i hate what they're all worth

— The End —