Best Claustrophobic Poems

Abandoned in the fifties after the war
A freight elevator stuck between floors
Obsolete machinery, splintered old chairs
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere

Dead air presses...

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lately, i have been in this female mood
for some kind of abandon, that
which exhales the tigress fire
out of my lungs digging the veins
from a week's'...

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ALONE AT THE HOLOCAUST MUSEUM

rose early in the morning,
indulged in a lovely quiche lorraine,
ventured out

          ...

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“Sleep paralysis is like a waking nightmare, except you can’t escape it.” – Unknown



Tonight, when the 
jilted bells toll, 
my decayed 
soul sighs,
I lay paralyzed...

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Silence is deafening
Like a dungeon dark hallway.
Door after close door of bounding
Moans and groans, and painful
Yelling gasping for air.
I sit in this cold
Dark cell shivering...

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An alchemical raven's gray rhapsody awakens those cynical roses who
Breathe-in the ebony beams of blood-bathed sun, exhaling
Cacophonies that ricochet across these truthful horizons where, 
Depressive...

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A million people just like me
All close, claustrophobic, strangers
I may not seem or look alone but I am
I am alone 
Alone, alone, alone
Those words roaring...

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I squeeze myself, turn the music off…

~ You Need To Be Here ~

I close my eyes, scream in my head…

~ You Need To Be Here...

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THE SHED  

Down there in the shed I know,
There is something that I need.
I haven’t seen it now for ages, 
But I know it’ll...

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“Nobody likes a clown at midnight.”       Stephen King


CLOWN AT THE ABYSS


Darkroom abscessed 
with neon blush and black-blood —
sunken eyes...

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Yes, I know, it’s not Saturday, 
the day I usually take you from your
dark closet to clean the rugs. 

I thought I’d have a friendly...

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The empty space you left in my life
Is still unattended
The time I have on my hands
Due to your absence 
I am using it to think
Drawing...

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BANISH ME TO THE BOOKSHOP

Chain me, so I can roam. Lock me away in this bower.
Banish me to the bookshop - i’ll enjoy this affair...

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I avoid florists, not the people,
who generally speaking,
are polite and quite unremarkable.

I write of those floral gangsters;
the vainglorious gladioli,
eugenically forced greenhouse geraniums
with their large shar-pei...

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THE MONSTER YOU DREAD

i can’t handle rejection,
the unhug of perfection.
a piercing scream of perplexion —
my complexion streaked
grouted and piqued.

i backhanded you by
closing the splintered door,
vainglorious...

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