"tightness" poems
Step 1: Get out of bed
Step 2: Look in the mirror
Step 3: Practice your smile
Step 4: Eyedrops to hide the red eyes
Step 5: Conceal the dark circles
Step 6: Breathe
The curtains are almost up
Step 7: Lock down the pain
Step 8: Ignore the weight on your chest
Step 9: Silence the screams inside of your mind
Step 10: Choke down the sobs
Step 11: Ignore the stinging in your eyes
Step 12: Swallow past the tightness in your throat
You’ve put on this show a million times
Step 13: Don’t let them see
Times up. Curtains up. Camera rolling
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 9:23 PM UTC
Picasso
you give us things
which
bulge:grunting lungs pumped full of sharp thick mind
you make us shrill
presents always
shut in the sumptuous screech of
simplicity
(out of the
black unbunged
Something gushes vaguely a squeak of planes
or
between squeals of
Nothing grabbed with circular shrieking tightness
solid screams whispers.)
Lumberman of the Distinct
your brain’s
axe only chops hugest inherent
Trees of Ego,from
whose living and biggest
bodies lopped
of every
prettiness
you hew form truly
28.6k
I am caught up in anxiety
It’s something that haunts me daily
A tightness in my chest
Because of the things I know
Everything moving in circles
Nothing permanent
And the love stained in my heart
Will fade
And grow again
But the pain in my chest
Won’t fade
Nor grow
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 12:57 PM UTC
I had so much to say but then I lost the courage.
You wouldn't want to hear them, I know.
I'm no good expressing what I want to,
When my heart's about to be throw out of my mouth.
The tightness on my throat intensifies and I stand quiet,
While my head's about to be blown away with so many thoughts.
*Because every time we say goodbye,
It feels like I'm about to say something.
But then I look at you and I've all the answers.
I don't even know what that means.*
You shake me to the core, I feel alive
And so afraid, that I'm the only one feeling that way.
You break my walls, the next second I'm building them up again.
*Because every time we say goodbye,
It feels like I'm about to say something.
But then I look at you and I've all the answers.
I don't even know what that means.*
Please, show me that you want to get to know me,
That you ******* care,
That you'll be there if I need.
I trust you so much. I can't understand how that happened.
You give me so much security when I look at you,
That everything's gonna be easier, even when you're ****** up inside.
How?
*Because every time we say goodbye,
It feels like I'm about to say something.
But then I look at you and I've all the answers.
I don't even know what that means.*
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 8:54 PM UTC
I knew the orange on the orange tree
you had an ache in your shoulders
uncomfortable in an unnatural way
yesterday I passed you talking to flowers
you hadn't moved you hadn't strayed
but hiding in the leaves was a forced disguise
the omens told me something quiet and unceasing
reminding me of a slumbering domesticated cat
dreaming of cutting yourself loose from truncated ease
dropping down from the branch with panther steps
licking fruit lips ripe with revealed acidic petals
riddled with a past you revelled mixing in with zest
shocking chances stepped in for the next dance
sleep taken aback by wings cut from a dark sky
the sidewalk pitted and cracked beneath the pounce
relief escaped the twigs with a spring like waking prey
pressing into night foliage shaken from a nice balance
as I saw you take control with nothing to mask your face
on the surface too smooth for violence
was laughter of glowing gloom to embarrass
and deter such rebellious arrogance
with a twist struggling from a lame curse
its flavours sharp against your sweetened perfume muscle
expecting you to build a limestone shed for tears
rather than take on the night with a mind to wrestle
the outside aches for your physical attraction
gaining courage from the purpose in your eyes
tense as the tightness of your dress' intention
demanding that my hands draw from such lines
the sinuous heat of pulsing flesh's invitation
curved upon seeds not chaste but not quite refined
which I try not loving with some cool disambiguation
you left me the taste of syrup of grenadine
too reputable to ripple vain red tipple eyed
on a table spilt with pink gin and mandarin
sharp teeth tingling a tartness into my hand
sliding slowly at a tilt like drops of sweat on skin
focus dwindling into the clasp of an escaping shade
wrapped carefully under soft rice paper and then
tucked under a heel with a pointed kick like a blade
only to feel you relent and burst open
soft in appeal again and again
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 3:28 PM UTC
Two years ago,
I started drowning
It wasn’t bad
At first
A little tightness
In my lungs
But nothing too bad
One year ago,
I was still drowning
The air wasn’t coming
Back into my lungs
Only ice cold
Freezing water
Blackness started
Edging into my vision
But I ignored it
Because no one else around me
Was drowning
So there was no reason why
I would be, unless
I was weak
I wasn’t weak
I wasn’t drowning
Or so I said
Six months ago
I started drowning
For real, this time
There was no denying
The fact that my hands
Were turning grey
And my lungs were crying out
But my blue lips
Didn’t part to
Let out that scream
And my grey limbs wouldn’t
Flail to show someone,
Anyone at all
That I was drowning
Five months ago,
I kept drowning
I was now far from the surface
Of the water
Where it was light blue
And warm in the
Shallow ends of this water
I had far surpassed that
I was in arctic water
Deep and cold
Murky and unfathomable
Drowning, and not making
A single sound
Thirty-six days ago
I gave into drowning
Well, I had given into it
When I decided that
Greying skin and blue lips
Was fine, for me
But now, I completely gave in
Thirty-six days ago,
I wanted to drown
But I wanted to do it faster
And so I tried to hurry up
The process of drowning
Alone, in those icy waters
Thirty-four days ago
Someone dangled an oxygen mask
In front of my blue lips
They told me to put it on
But I didn’t want to
Drowning was like anything else
Once you had spent enough time
In it, you became afraid
Of what it would be like
Without it
I knew drowning
I knew its pain, I became friends with it
I was comfortable with drowning
And I knew the outcome of it
And I was okay with it
Thirty-three days ago,
Someone jumped into that awful water
Or perhaps they didn’t
Jump in, they swam over
They forced the mask between my lips
And then they stayed
It came loose, a couple times,
And I found other people who were drowning
I hated that they were drowning
But I think that we were all a little glad
To find that we weren’t alone
In our drowning
I’ve kept my oxygen mask
I’m still in that cold water
But now I have others who make sure
That I don’t drown
And I make sure that
Their masks are affixed
They do the same for me
We save each other
And now that I have
Enough air to breathe
I can see, and I can see
Other people who
Are starting to drown
So I take all my effort and energy
And I swim to them
Most of the time, they don’t have a mask
And it hurts me to see that they’re drowning
So I give them my mask
For as long as they need
Until they have their own
Sure, it hurts me, but as long as it helps them
A while ago,
I started drowning
I kept drowning for a while
But then I found others
And together, we found our way
We found our oxygen tanks
We’re still drowning
But now, we can take in enough air
To sometimes swim
A bit closer to the surface
A bit closer to
Not drowning
A bit closer
To real life
And no matter how far we fall
The others will help us start going
To the light blue, peaceful water
Water that we won’t drown in
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 9:11 PM UTC
Rejection
There is a tightness in my chest,
because repeatedly I've been put to the same test.
Torturing me over and over again,
I'm longing now for emissary vein.
How much longer should I maintain optimism,
it just wants to carry on to pessimism.
It's a wound that won't stop bleeding,
but still showing gratitude and I'm still breathing,
for how longer should I except defeating.
I've been tested to love, but she won't love me back.
I've been tested to be shoved,
but thereafter I can't remain in place for walking upright on that track.
I've been tested counting down the list of all Woman whose affection
was unreturned.
But this list is yet far from having a cut to be undeterred.
Thereof I'm asking myself again"
Does true love really exist ?
Today I still would say yes, cause I've been able norishing my list.
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 8:15 PM UTC
How do you explain that your bones are the coal used as breeding ground for a fire? How do you explain that there's a fire raging inside of you, setting every inch of your body and thoughts ablaze? Like a wildfire destroys the forest, this pain is knocking me down and smoldering me.
But how can you say you're in ashes when your body is unbruised?
No collapsed limbs, no heaving lungs, no unconscious mind -only puffy eyes and a tired tongue?
How do you explain that the tightness one gets in their throat upon hearing unexpectedly terrible news is a common feeling of yours - a side effect of the blood that runs through all of your veins? That even though you know you can do something, the words 'you physically cannot' are flooding your brain like a drug and poisoning every choice you try to make?
How do you explain that every move you make feels like walking on a tightrope that seems to never end. How each step sends a shiver down your spine; trying not to fall, trying to finish the task, trying to stop the anxiety -but you can never reach the end because your destination keeps switching from left to right despite the progress you've made.
How do you explain that you're dying when everyone see's you as perfectly alive?
NJ2016
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 11:37 PM UTC
I can hear it
The whistle and rustle as air surrounds and fills the sacks of my lungs
I can feel it
The heavy tightness of my chest with every exhale
I reach in my pocket
"Shake" "shake"
"Puff" "puff"
A sudden relief of my lungs smooth muscles loosening
Dopamine fills my body
Sigh
I exhale and walk away happily daunting the next oncoming of an attack by its hazardous side effects
A fish out of water
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 5:25 PM UTC
The trellis of oak trees winked,
captured my soul in a spinney,
chalked whispers of free promises
breathy like a silken shawl trailing
Those wise men of old, withered
skin of bark, tall and strong, waving
their introduction. They bowed to me
in free form, in humble escapism.
Sun had stroked their warm palms,
fed them sweet sap. To my left a
stray leaf, rested amid invisibility,
caught the air train, and spiralled free.
Twizzled to the green painted rug
basking under my cotton covered feet.
Reaching out, it blew away,
I chased the freedom fields.
The brook teased it and set
sail under the woody bridge,
green from seasonal tears.
Lost sight as it spun the space
between us. The grass sprung
its beginnings in full Spring, tall in parts,
summer not yet wrapped and
ready to visit us, much less
invited to the summer ball
where shadows are ten a penny,
and sunshine bought on every
street corner. I am among spring
devoured in daffodil eiderdowns,
elbowing out the crocus, snowdrop
chandeliers. I seagull my way,
swaying in step with willow, blossoming
surprising myself, how I let go of
school day shivers, tinkering my brain
into gear for terms talking tightness,
cramming commas, fat full stops.
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 7:47 AM UTC
You laid me down gently,
Just as gentle as i wanted.
You reassured me of my uncertainty.
You made sure i was okay.
There was that cold tightness in my chest,
That sank right through me until
I could feel it in my spine.
As this feeling has once left me scared and shaken,
I made my decision.
Than you made your first move,
And all the colors i have ever seen lit up my mind.
And a fire lit in my stomach and the flames moved up my spine.
Until you reached my neck and arranged a small kiss.
Your lips extinguished my fire and left my bones bare.
Hold on for dear life,
I felt something adjust inside me.
And that was not as suggestion for the actions at hand.
But something happened in my soul
That left me forever thirsting for your touch.
Not in the desirous way i had before,
But as though the atoms of my heart,
And every particle that made up the pathetically helpless being i call myself,
Needed you.
They would not be the same without you,
i am stuck on you.
Addicted to you.
And every moment without you feels like sudden death,
A draw of my logical mind and these particles of my being.
Its absolutely absurd how reliant i am on you.
Well i have no other way to put it,
But in the least poetic and mysterious way possible,
I guess that's what happens when you take a lonely girl's virginity.
They become addicted.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 3:35 PM UTC
Tightness in my chest
I cant breath.
The only time I can escape
is when I fall asleep.
Constant nausea
constant fear.
How did this happen
knowing I'm safe here?
It's a constant worry
another will strike.
I worry about it all the time
it makes me lose my appetite.
My sight darkens
my life flashes.
My worries control my thoughts
my heart crashes and burns to ashes.
You have no idea what its like
to live one day in my shoes.
Maybe if you did
you wouldn't judge me as you do
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 9:11 PM UTC
Oh, to hold her close, in the sway of desire,
matching her rhythm,
as passion climbs higher.
Her tightness surrounds,
a sweet, perfect fit,
every ****** a pulse,
every move, a hit.
I watch, entranced,
as her body sways,
each bounce, each curve,
in love’s fierce blaze.
Her face, a canvas,
painted with delight,
as we lose ourselves,
in the dance of night.
Aug 8, 2024
Aug 8, 2024 at 10:16 PM UTC
I do not want to dance with you if you
are watching all the other people dance.
And though I’m not a dancer, no – it’s true;
don’t think about the tightness of his pants.
I know you want to kiss me, close your eyes
so you can feel the lips, the hips, not see:
this body’s moves and dips are not some guy’s,
but long for you, and all belong to me.
Watch me as you dance, step on my toes
just so I know your dancing thoughts are mine.
The ballerina in your head that shows
you spin with me – I think it needs a wind.
You’re not a wind up toy but love a spin,
take me for one, I’ve won; I want to win.
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 6:15 PM UTC
Take a deep breath.
In through the nose
out through the toes.
Feel the emotions.
In through your brain
out through your hands.
Process the pain.
In through your nerves
out through your brain.
Can't let it clutter.
Don't allow it to take over.
Won't let it suffocate.
This anxiety.
The tightness in your chest.
You feel it happening as you sit.
The panic attack holds you.
It keeps you back.
Keeps you away from life.
You need to breathe.
You need to shake it out.
You need to think it off.
You.
Can.
Do.
This.
Take a deep breath.
Feel the emotions.
Process the pain.
This is just a blip.
Just a small blip
in your entire life.
You are strong.
You are smart.
You are stable.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 10:26 PM UTC
It was as if her old shirt has tightened its grip unto her — slowly spreading crumbs of itch and scars from her last night's episode.
And sometimes, she would often wear her old clothes to feel its tightness and grip her unbalanced body, so she would look at herself and roll her eyes in disgust. And often, she would toss around her big shirts and compare the two, while her wounds slowly turning into scars, she would see to it and add another collection,
and she would call it a day. Eat a lot more than yesterday and hide in her memories, until someone finds her, but she's never found.
Sometimes, she will serenade someone but no one can hear her. Give some pieces of her and turn it into songs, but no one listens.
And she would call it a day, spend a lot more than yesterday, and hide in the present realm of her new found friend, her favorite scent from her old shirt.
Jan 5, 2022
Jan 5, 2022 at 1:56 PM UTC
a familiar tightness and shortness of breath
slips into my chest...
college always does this to me.
it's not even the work.
i can do the work
like a prisoner doing his time
it's the people that i can't do.
why am i so socially awkward?
i am a triumph among those younger than me
but people my own age
make me feel like a snail
hiding in a shell in plain sight
where i could easily be stepped on.
i must sink into my comfortable stereotype
yes, that will help
i am a gamergirl who wears batman shirts
and plays assassin's creed in the library
move along, ugg boots.
nothing to see here.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 10:54 AM UTC
The tightness and the nilness round that space
when the car stops in the road, the troops inspect
its make and number and, as one bends his face
towards your window, you catch sight of more
on a hill beyond, eyeing with intent
down cradled guns that hold you under cover
and everything is pure interrogation
until a rifle motions and you move
with guarded unconcerned acceleration—
a little emptier, a little spent
as always by that quiver in the self,
subjugated, yes, and obedient.
So you drive on to the frontier of writing
where it happens again. The guns on tripods;
the sergeant with his on-off mike repeating
data about you, waiting for the squawk
of clearance; the marksman training down
out of the sun upon you like a hawk.
And suddenly you're through, arraigned yet freed,
as if you'd passed from behind a waterfall
on the black current of a tarmac road
past armor-plated vehicles, out between
the posted soldiers flowing and receding
like tree shadows into the polished windscreen.
3.5k
I’m two guys deep
Since you.
And I’m sitting here with your taste in my mouth
The taste of smoke and strawberries
The taste of the time we spent the whole day
Learning each other’s touch.
I can still taste you
Lingering under my dry mouth of regret.
I’m two guys deep
And neither of them have understood what I need.
That I need you.
I am tasting the salt of my tears.
I am two guys deep
And I still trace the pattern of the bruises I got from archery together
I can still taste the time we made out to Sharknado 2.
I am tasting my regret.
I am tasting the tightness in my throat.
I am tasting you
I am still tasting you not tasting me anymore
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 11:18 PM UTC
Extra lessons after school
Explaining how you are not yourself
Such small words used so simply
Cut like knives through your chest
'She'
Paraphrasing arguments
Summarizing discipline
Faceless family with too much on their own plate to understand
Why you don't like what's on yours
'She'
Tightness in your chest not because your binding is too small
But because it isn't
The name of a state has never hurt so much
'She'
You look in the mirror and grimace
Shower so fast you don't have to see yourself
Roll their words in your mind until you're leaning over the toilet
'She'
Humming summer days fade into early autumn nights
Long days enforce what they have already told you
Dress code laws repeated by tongue
And hasty dressing in changing rooms
Hoping they won't notice you
'She'
But you are an active volcano
There are wolves in your chest and lions in your brain
And they can't change you
You get home and look in the mirror and sign into skype
A simple word that only drops one letter
Has never had so much power
He.
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 10:16 AM UTC
this night was different;
there were more moments spent looking back then forward,
panic always pulsating in the crook of our throat
like some giant, out of breath beast
waiting in the hollow sweat, and gnarled tree branches
reflecting black against the slightly purple sky.
it was too quiet to mask our
echoing footsteps;
boot on pavement
no rain to soften the blow.
we made it in thirty minutes to the gas station,
where we unzipped our jackets
and let the lace show out of our drooping shirts
blinking like a warning sign
to the drugged up cashier,
words mumbling over his body,
strings mixed up.
men entered and i saw that look
that i always see
in men who look at me;
its hungry, a type of lusting mouth with no
feeling,
**** trusted more than his heart.
the kind of look that says,
“i want you feeling my biceps in the back of
my truck,
and i want to feel your tightness all over me,”
the only problem is i play along,
pretending to be seductive
and then leaving with an agonizingly frozen stare, and
a quickened pace
just to show them who's actually in control.
a pack of Newports exchanged over the counter,
another lighter;
this time with a green and red flower on it;
dahlias of the night.
exoskeletons of black jackets and tights
like some shadow riding vagabonds,
inside guts made out of
swallowed cigarette smoke
and bravery.
we smoked and walked,
watching as headlights flickered toward our slim frames,
and men leaned out from trucks
with salivating mouths like dogs,
inviting us to their burning desire
in the cold, shrinking night.
under the layer of skin
that tells the girl beside me that it would be stupid
to heed to their invitations,
i admit to myself
that all i want is for a stranger to wrap around me
and kiss my smoke stained lips
with a different fury,
so i can whisper a fake name in the depths of their ears,
and show them that i will kiss
better than all the women that have
wrapped themselves in
their limp bedsheets,
and leave them wanting more as i disappear into the night,
leaving nothing but a longing burn
on the tips of their tongues.
but i don't give into my fierce desires,
and we simply turn around,
smoke five more cigarettes,
and climb up the fence
to **** her hand,
and run across the raging freeway
like the Klamath itself.
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
There’s a tightness in my chest
Pulling me deeper into this dark.
Choking and sputtering I try to fight
The way I’ve fought for so long.
Holding on to a glimmer of hope
I cling with drenched and wrinkled hands.
I can’t breathe in this murky Hell
No matter how hard I try.
It floods down my throat
Into my lungs like tar.
It coats them in my miseries and failures
Until they’re suffocating under the weight of my madness.
The string holding me up
Is getting weaker and weaker.
I can feel it fraying
Slimy hands struggle for purchase.
Climbing through the waterfall of tears
Away from the end of my rope.
I reach for the hand holding it up.
I can finally get clean and help myself.
I can feel their fingertips
Tickling at my outstretched hand.
I grip their wrist and begin to cry
Not out of sorrow but relief.
I am saved, I am free from this place!
Never again will I return
Because I can survive.
I am strong.
The hand slips.
And just like that
I am back where I began.
At the end of my rope.
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 8:38 AM UTC
My ankle is chained.
I gripped on the railing of my sinking ship, hoping i could pull myself out of the water.
As i waited for rescue, rain poured down and waves grew bigger.
The chain attached to my ankle was too heavy that my hand was already slipping. I had to let go since it felt like i was being torn in two as i was being anchored down the depths of the ocean. I was sure my ankle bled from the chain's tightness and the weight that was pulling me down but i couldn't feel the pain. All i felt was the freezing cold water and my heavy chest.
It was as if my heart carried my whole weight.
I never wanted to drown but i felt like i no longer had enough strength to resist. I gasped for air one last time and yet even the air felt like poision.
Now i felt the physical pain. It stung.
My throat was on fire as i allowed myself to be dragged further down. I closed my eyes as tight as i could and clenched my teeth while my body trembled in pain and my chest felt tighter.
This. This was the only time i hoped my heart would stop beating. but no matter how i hard i wished or prayed, it wouldn't stop. It felt like an hour of drowning and yet i was still conscious. It's my fault. I built it like this. I built it with hope and faith for years. Now i couldn't understand whether it was for good or bad. To hold on to life or hold on to the pain?
Slowly, i was being pulled deeper down the ocean. I tried to open my eyes but i couldn't see anything anymore. There was nothing but the color red.
I never knew i had this amount of blood. Enough to build an ocean which only God can make.
I'm still alive. I can move.
But i am stuck underneath this ocean of blood with my chest still tightening, unsure of when the pain would stop or if anyone could find me at this depth.
You said you'd come visit. So I left a note on my desk hoping you'd find it. I went cruising even if i hated the waters. I brought an anchor and a chain with me but i left its key on the desk too. I had no idea what it was for or why i brought it. All i knew was i was watching the sunset and it was suddenly chained to me when darkness came. I didn't know how my ship sank or how i got in the water. Maybe it was not in good condition. But then again, i knew you would check it everyday because you told me so.
Where are you? Have't you read my note yet? Did you come visit? Are you on your way?
I'll be here waiting, holding on, and hoping that your hand would be the first one to pull me out of my misery. Even if i know you'd never read the note in the first place.
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 7:08 AM UTC
What is courage?
Is it a sharp breath before jumping off the edge?
Is it the tightness in your chest
That pulls you up when everyone else is sitting down?
Is it the burning heat in your eyes
That smolders and boils
As you gaze upon those who oppose you?
Is that courage?
Or is courage the defiant silence –
The silence that watches your nose bleed
In the foggy cracked mirror?
Is it the child who says, “I love you”
Between the sniffling and trembling?
Is courage allowing the tears to come
When there are people around to witness your suffering?
Is courage looking up?
Is courage focusing on the next step forward
Rather than the hundreds already taken?
Is courage doing what you believe is right
No matter how much your palms sweat
Or how much your knees shake
Or how much your stomach twists
Or how much your lips tremble
Or how much doubt you feel
That anything you do will change anything?
Is courage a lie?
Does Courage exist?
A dictionary says Courage is
“The quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain, etc. without fear”
If that is truly what courage means,
Then there is no such thing.
Fear is not something that you can decide not to have.
Fear is deep.
Fear is psycological.
Fear is biological.
Fear is natural.
Fear is not a pebble in one’s brain that can be removed on a whim.
Fear can, however, be ignored.
Fear can be climbed over.
Fear can be conquered.
Facing a difficulty fully aware of the fear
Is what makes an action courageous.
Courage is speaking up
Acting out
Crying
Smiling
Holding back
Being silent
Knowing the punch is going to come
Knowing the insult is going to come
Knowing the tears are going to come
And the conflict
And the questions
And the darkness
And the thunder
And the criticism
And the judgement
And the violence
And the doubt,
Disbelief, and denial
And knowing that 3:30 AM comes around every single night
Regardless of whether or not you can sleep.
Courage is opening your eyes
Even when you don’t like what you see
Because you have to.
And you don’t have to just because somebody told you to
Or because you read it somewhere
Or heard it somewhere
Or saw it somewhere.
You have to because there’s substance in you.
There’s a third dimension to you.
You have to because that tightness in your chest
Isn’t something you control.
There is no Courage Switch.
You can’t cultivate courage.
Everyone has it but not everyone has seen it.
Not everyone has used it
But everyone can.
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 8:28 PM UTC