"thanatophobia" poems
You know you're happy with life
When you finally fear death
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 11:09 PM UTC
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
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 3:41 PM UTC
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.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC
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
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC
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?
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 8:58 PM UTC
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.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
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
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 4:51 PM UTC
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.”
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 7:40 PM UTC
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
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 1:50 AM UTC
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!
Nov 1, 2019
Nov 1, 2019 at 2:34 AM UTC
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.
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 2:18 AM UTC
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 fuckin' 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.
Dec 29, 2017
Dec 29, 2017 at 4:39 AM UTC
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.
Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 10:59 PM UTC
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.
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 11:16 PM UTC
There was no fear
of death in life,
but the subconscious
understands fear,
and I was afraid
to slip away in my sleep.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 3:54 PM UTC
do you love me Bipolar –
My heart is in a bit of disorder;
ordering my emotions, suspended by
the winds blowing me into my
Mood swings.
Does loving me sometimes feel
too irrational – do I
give you a sense of Phobia; I
cannot Lie; I have
_thanatophobia_
and the someone I love,
that I fear losing - in All honesty,
is losing myself to _Love…_
Feb 6, 2025
Feb 6, 2025 at 4:55 AM UTC
She's a scientist
She don't look back
She's really a 🍕 gourmand,
but genetically,
Gourmet is where she's at
She loves being a statistician,
Calories count per pizza slice
(scientifically, toppings atoms don't matter)
A-good theorem excites,
Especially epically, when she
disproves it in tour face
Knows a lot of big words,
That nobody else understood
(but flaunting feels good)
She's an artist,
And a poet, always looking forward
(chasing sunrises)
She gets overloaded with advice,
So knows how, to give it back
(but only tidbit sized)
She knows the world is flat,
When running, she really likes that!
unlike me,
i'll quit when
out of stuff,
but a woman,
well. that's-he, be,
something else
Aug 15, 2025
Aug 15, 2025 at 4:43 PM UTC
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.
Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 10:49 PM UTC
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.
Mar 16, 2021
Mar 16, 2021 at 6:21 AM UTC
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
Jul 31, 2020
Jul 31, 2020 at 9:56 PM UTC