#poems about anxiety

[psyche-tips-the-candle]

I have stood

My heart in my hands

Unflinching

Resolute

But here and now

You give me your trust

As if it is nothing

And I? Am terrified

[academia-princess23]

an excerpt from a poem I wrote

poem 5: i think i’m allergic to people.

(a poem about social anxiety)…

“so it’s like i’m always anxious about something, 24/7, 365, every minute of every day.

and it’s exhausting. it’s really tiring. and it’s draining, but i can’t stop it because anxiety is the way i cope with the stressful environment around me.

without anxiety, i don’t feel safe. but with anxiety, i don’t feel safe either.”

[trickstersaint]

core // september 26 2024

[ponochino]

[boycritter]

[decisions-at-3am]

As you hold my hand, I hope your fingers Don't find my wrist. It would become Fairly obvious, That my heart is still Racing from our kiss.

[finalgirlgretchen]

[menticidemushroom]

I fear now that I will be treated

As the cows are

Milked and butchered

Captive for consumption

The calfs tucked away

Hidden in a crate

Soon to be veal

Looking up with the widest eyes in fear

Or maybe a broodmare

Locked away to breed

And rear the finest sons

Your pride and joy

A perfect racing horse

A glorious leader of the country

He will carry on the worst legacy

Continuation of this cycle

Perhaps I'll be a mother hen

Forced by the rooster

Into laying eggs only meant

For a harvest

For my home has become

Nothing but a slaughterhouse

I myself a woman

Soon turned to livestock

For what the world viewed

As their prized stallion

Is hoisted into power

He will become the butcher

[chadlesbianjasontodd]

Closely connected to the act of name signing was the act of writing poems on walls. As scholars have already pointed out, with beginnings traceable to the Six Dynasties, wall poems (tibishi) were already very widespread during the Tang. By Christopher Nugent's count, well over one thousand entries in the Complete Tang Poems had titles indicating that they began as inscriptions on some surface other than paper or scrolls. These surfaces included walls at places of gathering and transit, such as post stations, scenic sites, inns, and increasingly in the latter part of the Tang, Buddhist temples, which also served public roles for lay gatherings and performances. (100)

In one anecdote, a latecomer casts aspersions on a first writer's literary skills, comparing him to the general Xiang Yu (232-202 BCE), who was infamous for having learned just enough writing to manage his name: "Li Tang signed his name on a pavilion in Zhaoying County. When Wei Zhan [jinshi degree 865] saw it, he took a brush and dashed off a taunt: 'The rivers of Wei and Qin brighten the eyes, / but why is Xiren short on poetic spirit? / Perhaps he mastered only what Beauty Yu's husband could / learning to write just enough to put down his name.' " ... It would not be a stretch to imagine the sniggering of those who read this inscription in a frequented pavilion. (102)

For a degree seeker in Chang'an, these circuits of information and judgment received more discussion than the actual examination itself. Tang literati wrote copiously about activities such as name signing, public exposure, and triumph. It would not be an exaggeration to say that in ninth-century temples and popular recreation areas, the vertical spaces were teeming with verses that clamored for attention. (104)

selections on poetic graffiti from linda rui feng's city of marvel and transformation: chang'an and narratives of experience in tang dynasty china (university of hawaii press, 2015)

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

Oh, for a skeleton key…

Plus a digital mockup to simulate a red ink pass that i discovered could not be achieved well enough with the materials available to me, and the original pencils.

[corpsentry]

black eyes

[vanx-97]

Too broke, beer bottle ashtrays

Lose control, Xanax every Saturday

new dope to deal with past mistakes

I'm tryna stay high until I pass away

300 a week just to get lit

Walk the streets, got a car that needs fixed

Nothing to eat, glad I don't have kids

Be a broken family if I ever did

Roaches in the microwave, bugs in the bed

Nose is a passage way for drugs to my head

Coexist with massive pain, I'm such a mess

Hopeless and mad ashamed, puff a cigarette

How are they so happy? Why not I?

Am I really worth it? Should I even try?

I think the universe wants me to die

Maybe it can all change if I stop getting high

(For the record, I am not about this life anymore. I have been clean from hard drugs for 4 years now. This is based on my past experiences and if you are in this place, please get help, love to everyone, thank you)

[im-an-anthusiast]

Almost Sweet

A sickening something crawls down my throat,

And I don’t know why, but I just won’t choke

It’s always been there, despite what I thought

And now all of this feels like a bad joke

I’m seeing invisible ciphers

Thing that isn’t there, an unwritten verse

I’m hearing inaudible whispers

Only I perceive them – is this my curse?

I’m so hungry that I can’t eat

It’s all so bitter it’s almost sweet

It’s just barely not there, like I dreamed it

And it’s so damn bitter, it’s almost sweet

A sickening something crawls up my throat

It makes me spit, gag, and it makes me choke

Saw it coming, but it’s worse than I thought

It is the punchline, to this twisted joke

I’ve got a bad feeling – about nothing

But also – about every single thing

Delusions make me sick to my stomach

But the truth is something I can’t stomach

I am untouched, and yet, I have been hit

It’s all so bitter it’s almost sweet

It’s just barely there – I didn’t dream it

And it’s so damn bitter, it’s almost sweet

A sickening something, stuck in my throat

After all this time, it still makes me choke

All of this is clearly not what I sought

I wish all of this was just some dumb joke

My head is in the clouds – stormy and gray

But my feet – rooted in the soil and clay

And that pressure, it pains me greatly

Why can’t things, for once, go, oh, so gently?

I’m new to this town, but I know this street

It’s all so bitter it's almost sweet

Is it really there? What if I dreamed it?

It’s so damn bitter it’s almost sweet

[bibibusinessman]

A poem about not being ok

It’s ok to not be ok they tell you.

It’s ok to not be ok they tell you. And yet they judge you when when basic tasks become exhausting.

It’s ok to not be ok they tell you. But when you want to cry they say it’s not that bad. 

It’s ok to not be ok they tell you. But when your grades are slipping they tell you try harder.

It’s ok to not be ok they tell you. But when you sleep all day they say you are procrastinating.

It’s ok to not be ok they tell you. But when your friends text you and you don’t respond it’s because you are rude.

It’s ok to not be ok they tell you. But when you leave marks on your skin it’s because you want attention.

It’s ok to not be ok they tell you. But when you don’t have the energy to clean they tell you you’re lazy.

It’s ok to not be ok they tell you. But when you feel like giving up they tell you it’s never that bad.

It’s ok to not be ok, just don’t show it. 

[coffeexxcigarettes]

"You Seem Quiet."

-

I have spoken into the silence more often than I care to admit;

Into a void in which my words are lost.

It gets tiring, you know.

Being the one who speaks with no reply.

If I am not happy for me,

Or rather,

Even if I am,

It acts as a vacuum;

It acts as a brush of shame.

Painting my eyes a different color than intended,

Stumbling over my words until I trail off.

Nobody has ever asked me

What I am thinking.

It is assumed I should like to share it.

Yet some thoughts are delicate,

Handspun glass,

Curving to the sun,

Writhing for anybody to take hold and

See me.

Ask me

What I think.

Shattering when trying to hold attention long enough,

For anybody to actually particularly care

About what is said.

x