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4.7k · Nov 2012
pomegranate
Emma Nov 2012
That's what I would paint you as.
Bold and bright red.
I think that's why you like them:
not because of the taste, but because they're the closest nature comes to telling your color
And I know you've got a thing or two against nature.

If I were Deaf I think it would be easier to look you and everyone else in the eyes.
I'd sign that I love you. And I'd sign a joke.
I'd say I'm proud of you,
and that you can do better.

I think you want to be that bright-red
confident
desirable
intense,
intimidating

want to be de
                       vo
                           ured

and secretly you dwell on that bitter-inside-of-your-seeds
that crunch, you imagine people might tire of returning to you

I just wish you knew that nobody doesn't eat pomegranates because of the seeds,
it's because they have to spend forever peeling away the outside just to get into the wonderful insides of it; they have to cut into that beautiful exterior hoping that the inside will be just as bright
and let's just say more people go for the red apple

I'd like to one day call you an apple
It has no secrets
and it is just as beautiful
3.2k · Dec 2010
White noise
Emma Dec 2010
Splash the cold
cold water spray my cold
cold day
FALLING into
Where is the
Who am
Blinking into sunshine
Runs the squirrel
Marry the lovebirds singing jolly?
Marred a fickle folly
Hummmmmming to clear
Chaos inside boxes
Flying rainbows
Touching rainbows dreamt the trees
Rooted sand slipping
Watch the children!
CHAOS inside boxes
FALLING that person over there
White faces turn away
Clasping air?
Water mind switch
temperature
orange yellow, breathe
jump WHY ask why
pills bones switch
gather hate
Splash the cold.
Emma Nov 2012
The wind,
In your eyes,
That night.

That was the first time I saw true passion in a person.
The first time I thought about what it means to laugh while swimming upstream.

Nobody forgets moments like that.
Your eyes seared
forever in
mine.

Gently scattered cares
floated away to find another soul

And I stood bare holding a flame
Emma Mar 2013
Most days I wear flip-flops because I am too lazy to wear socks,
and I like the feeling of summer somewhere close to me,
and I like to watch my feet move. Do you know, there
are so many small little bones in there! it amazes me.

My mom used to massage my feet to wake me up.
She's been the best foot-massager of all, better than all the friends
and the boyfriends. Better than the early morning
sleepy-satisfying stretches, better than the feeling of sunlit
warm wood on my bare feet. Better than grass. Her calloused hands,
and softly hummed melodies. Tattooed arms, faded turquoise. Sun on her
skin. If I could see my mom in myself every time I looked in the mirror
I think I would be relaxed. I would play more music. I would spend
my next paycheck taking a day off with a pina colada and
tattooing a turtle, on my foot, just like hers.

Flexing my feet. Cold night air. Flip-flopping on the concrete. I wish
I could dive into the ocean, ice-cold, something worth laughing into
the nighttime. So much seriousness all the time, I think that people
need to eat more butter and not take skin to mean so much.

Silly, really, I guess. But a Mom-massage might just mean the world
sometimes. And smiling with someone is like a Mom-massage, right when I need it most.
To everyone who's been there, thank you.
Hugs. I also really like long hugs. If I give you a long hug it means I think you're really great.
2.2k · Jan 2011
Pajamas
Emma Jan 2011
Soft against my skin: comfort
because I don't care to pretend
or put on a show, and be pretend
or put on a mask, and be pretend
That **** shrinks in the wash, too
and faces aren't supposed to shrink.

There is that supposed to
supposed to straighten up, are
you trying to stoop? are
you trying to look uncivilized?
Power creates fear, but power
is our own illusion and
How does a brain incite fear into a mind?

Soft in a caress and laugh
we'll bypass power and fear
or cover our ears with our blankets
the world happens in a whirlwind

I missed it; I was too busy
finding happiness.
2.2k · Oct 2010
The cactus sings
Emma Oct 2010
I saw a leaf on the ground
stepped on, dry, cracked
and I felt sorry
But still it floated when the wind came up.

I saw the broken egg on the ground
below the nest
and I felt sorry
But still the others learned to fly.

I saw the ice cream on the ground
the child crying
and I felt sorry
But children are amazing; they don't stay sad.

In the middle of the desert
there is nobody
it is flat and barren, and the wind
stings with sand.
But still the cactus sings.
Emma Feb 2012
I'm trying to find a path.

The one that leads to sleep and straight into my dreams.
I'm thinking that if find it, quantify it, and twist it enough, they might become reality.
I might be able to run past the nightmares and the conflicts and the insanity.

My path is indestructible and it attracts my feet.
I don't have to think
It's like the ground is moving beneath me,
like a black strip of ground is moving beneath me on repeat.
Everyone is suddenly walking on a path
Everyone is on different pieces of ground,
on their own black path
moving beneath them
so they don't have to think.
If these paths don't touch, they don't make eye contact.
They are all together physically,
but they're in their own worlds...

...Who am I kidding, we're all in our own worlds!
And here I am trying to decide which way to go when
I realize it's already been decided.
I'm moving forward on this stupid black path that never changes.
I find myself looking around at the blank walls, the blank faces,
the plugged in faces! The darting eyes avoiding contact.
There's something wrong here.
It hits me every time, full blown.

There's a reason why I avoid the gym.
I'd rather run outside and let the world
take me in.
I'd rather be able to jump if I wanna, or sing,
or say something to the people around me.
Or escape the people around me!
Find a place where I can truly be.
On my own.
So many people are afraid of being alone.

I want this generation to see, to explore, to fall
and get up
and all the things like making forts and traps and seeing
off the top of a mountain -
from outside your car ...
Guys, there are stars in some places.
I'm telling you, there are things worth seeing out there.
I'm telling you what needs to happen.
You need to get up off your seat, unplug your eyes from the screen,
and go discover for yourself where you end up one day.
**** this path of perfection, **** all the shortcuts
and technology and craziness,
this culture of disconnection is
literally
driving
people
insane!
Start asking yourself questions and you'll realize Wikipedia can't tell you everything.
Peel away from your text and you might notice a blossoming tree.
The world changes.
Daily.
It will change, daily, for the rest of your life.

And I don't know about you, but I'd rather not let it pass me by.
1.9k · Dec 2010
representation
Emma Dec 2010
[civiliz]ation made of a large
[popul]ation of people with tendencies of
[segreg]ation with no purpose and
[condemn]ation that just hurts us
[transl]ation: [****]ation


(suffoc)ation prevents (revel)ation
1.7k · Feb 2012
anticlimax
Emma Feb 2012
I want you
to be
concrete and metal shards
ripping out
from inside me

rusty with the dried blood
of the last century

one hundred years from now they'll form you into coat-hangers
when they still haven't figured out what to make of heartbreak
they'll hang you out to dry
in the sun that never rises

eternal injustice, like salt
on the wound
the pain is a distraction from the
cancer of actual problems

Actually,
we live in
the first world

which is awfully pretentious
1.7k · Feb 2012
Orange Coral
Emma Feb 2012
Butterflies and crows circling the water
Dive
headfirst, closed eyes into the ocean.
Fly.

Rest easy
my
dearest;
how I've missed you
but only the physical things
only the ****** things

I'm objectifying you
(....how rude)



I'm riding on the waves of creation
fixating on free form and relation
with Self

Life is animated now, see the things
that we missed?
Life is kissable
It tastes salty and beautiful like seafoam
and sweet like spring blossoms

I'd offer you my hand again, but
last time you drug me down
This time I'll offer you sand instead,
and castles and sunshine
and smiles.
They're free,
you should try 'em out
sometime, baby.

There's no rush.
The sun will be waiting whenever
you wanna mosey over.
The time for moping is over.
Your misery can be over,
snap
That moment is over
That second is over
Your entire lifetime up to this point
is over

What's that you said about new beginnings?
Finding new things?

Dive in, head first, eyes closed,
towards those things you're seeking.
Don't ever stop

Don't
ever
stop

dreaming.
1.7k · Dec 2010
Wrinkles
Emma Dec 2010
When I was very young I had
a thought about thinking and feeling and
Thinking about feeling and
Feeling thought (or not)
And then I realized I was old.
1.6k · Nov 2011
i will wait for the dark
Emma Nov 2011
There's a light inside me that glows in anticipation,
there's the constant wait, the careful gait
the looking over shoulders for to take
away all thoughts of others
breaking bonds of making face
knocking shoulders, stifling
sounds for sights to take in solitude

my toes itch, my legs jump, i sit still.
in the light are overwhelming expressions
and the shadows of repressions
and stagnant silences to fill.

the room tilts my screen into someone else's eyes,
i wish, i wish
the thought of running and dancing into cries
i wish
the ground could pound against my feet and into my heart
i wish
for sleep - not mine, but the world's
do you understand?
(i'd give up the sun to run in the dark)

i can't live with you, i can't live without you,
i can't live with myself
movements are too constrained when you
expend so much energy towards
thought

i wish i could show you the things i've sought
i wish i could show you my world
i wish i could show you my woes
i wish i could share with you my happiest moments

Don't shut me down or I'll hate you like I hate the parts of myself I don't share.
and i won't even know it, either way
1.6k · Feb 2012
Temperature drop
Emma Feb 2012
The colors dripped straight into my stomach
swirling into grey,
darker as the wind blows cold

This space is so familiar yet so different
and I'm still a stranger
or the strangest friend, to have noticed
the air tasting like nostalgia
tasting like thorns
tasting like blood

The clouds cleared but the rain
remained
the same

the same

You said my name
I wish you said my name

I turned around and swirled
with a rush of fabric and stone-cold
into the grey and took flight
1.5k · Dec 2010
Chalk fingerprint
Emma Dec 2010
This isn't a number
or a word
This isn't a
wish for a
stamp of approval?
That's so human.
1.5k · Jan 2014
Life
Emma Jan 2014
A space composed, simultaneously, of divergence and convergence

peaceful moments are the wave about to crash and break

acceptance is not the end of motion, it is the end of resistance

a breaking point is a point of new birth

the air is made fresher by longing

and life is made most beautiful by constant change.

Ride the wave.
1.5k · Dec 2011
Ten word poem
Emma Dec 2011
it's worth
noticing                                                           the light
beyond
the lengths of
shadow
1.3k · Apr 2013
I Feared the Ocean
Emma Apr 2013
It started somewhere deep, before I knew the depths of depth itself
passed in a flurry of a moment, before I knew the limits of time.

There were the seeds, and the smiles. Root vegetables with
herbed olive oil. Sprouts coming up. Mom browned by the sun.
Brother naked with the sprinkler.
Dirt was the feeling of being human.

Water mixing with the dirt between our toes,
children making laughter in the trees.
Trees that shot upward like castles with hidden treasures,
sticks on the ground. Sticks as weapons for our toy-games. Sticks to walk with.
Calls cried out over the crunch of leaves. Hanging from branches.
Contests to be the best explorer, that
was the stuff of life.

Somewhere out in nature, by the campfire, I learned
that love is everything. Family laughing while the animals
went about their business, unnoticed, in the trees.
Safety by the fire. Safety in the stars.
Nights spent finding myself in the stars.

Days spent hiking up hillsides and rolling back down,
I learned that home is where your solid ground is –
that the earth is strong enough to hold all of us,
strong enough to contain all of the love and fear –

Like the ocean, the sand. Long hours spent in the water.
Waves were the first thing that really scared me, filled with the kind of raw power
that shakes you and reminds you that you were born to live.
Salt water dried up on my skin, I walked away stronger.
Waves turned to seeds, fertilized by thoughts.
Fading ocean air and sweet eucalyptus on the breeze,
hair whipping and tangled with sand.
Salt and bark and dirt must be threaded into my bones by now.

I wonder at these moments, I wonder at the elements
that have weaved themselves so intricately into my memories
and I wonder if we are strong enough to grow up,
while still remaining childlike and full of awe;
To own our actions, and to treat our planet with respect;
To acknowledge that we owe everything to the ground we walk on;
To happily give back. To reciprocate.

I want the trees to still be standing when I’m too old to stand.
I want there to be places that scare me with their wildness
and places where my future children can go to learn.
I want them to have a land to love, to be able to love
the trees and the dirt and the waves unabashedly.
To be inspired by nature’s grandness,
To be frightened and amazed by their own relative smallness.
I want everyone to love like I’ve loved.

I want us not to be held back by our fear.
Isn't fear so essential to life? To be dwarfed by something incomprehensible,
How love and fear alone could form a basis for my being,
my being in the ocean and learning to swim,
my being in the trees and learning to climb,
something simple. Like feeling my own humanness
with my bare feet in the grass and dirt.

With the same intensity that I love my childhood memories of growing up with nature,
I find myself gripped with a fear that those bits of nature might disappear,
that the ocean will cloud and fill with trash, that the trees will be chopped down and replaced
With man-made devices of carbon capture that offer no branches for climbing
And drop no sticks for playing with;
I fear that our lights will overpower the stars completely,
And that we’ll have nowhere to lose ourselves.
That we’ll have nowhere to find ourselves.

My fears feed fuel to my fire.
I learned from the ocean that fear makes you grow,
reminds you of what’s most important, and offers you a chance to make something.
For now, I offer you something earnest and vulnerable:
A plea.
Reversing the damage we’ve done to our environment will require all of us, working together.
It will require a childlike boldness, a reclamation of limitless love,
a desire to better ourselves, a willingness to ask questions
and follow our curiosities.
And it starts with one.

Jump with me.
This was a different experience for me. Longest poem I've written, and one of the few that I've actually edited and worked on. So... feedback appreciated! <3
1.3k · Dec 2010
Elemental
Emma Dec 2010
Love is like pain.
It waxes and wanes
within my aching veins
and pools up in the rains.
The ground, the sky, my heart, the same.
River, mountain, woods remain.

Singing for tomorrow
and the memories that follow
shading sorrows in the shallow
Hollows of my brain.
Uncertainty, expression, life, the same.
Those that choose to stand remain.
This means a lot of things, I think. I'm not even sure what it is for me. Let me know what it was for you.
Emma Aug 2013
There's something like fire in me,
something like dense wind and fierce waves,
something in the way of a bold moon.
Light shines in on me through my scar tissue, hits something deep.
The light seeps
and drips
and weeps.

I weep with fear of being overcome,
with the bitter taste of false expectations
and a burnt heart.
My skin has peeled away and like ash blown into nothingness,
baring me for what I am:
a child ashamed of her tears.
a fruit fallen before ripeness.
a sapling wishing for the wisdom of a tree.

Wishes weighting my sunken soul further down,
and I seek to be set free.
To break out of my body and become the universe,
to fill my soul with her stars and plant love with my steps
and weave golden threads of light from my once-heavy fear.

Fear.
Fear is my vast, heavy ocean.
Fear erupts within me, an angry volcano
and envelopes me.
Fear is my darkness. The darkness is too much for me.

I want to be inside myself and live in my heart,
the girl of golden threads with a voice like lightning,
who knows her mind and speaks her heart and exists
as a pure expression of love.
Like grass sprouting up from charred ground.

In darkness and stillness, I light fire to my barren body
in hopes of new growth.
For love and only love.
For everything was only ever an expression of love,
and I can accept that next time around.
1.3k · May 2013
Carson County
Emma May 2013
Texas, you ran on me like blood,
miles of road building up for an anticlimax.
Sun on her back, begging for rust,
wringing herself for another hour of daylight.
Green and golden grass through the windshield
speckled with red.

Made me want the coming dust,
made the vibrant greens of the humid East
seem like anthills worth cementing over,

Golden red. Wind whipped through the car windows,
nostalgia in a place I'd never seen.
I wanted to break you. Time was too still,
change was too slow for me. Southwest America had my name
drawn in dead bug splatters and drained coffee cups
somewhere ahead.

Time doesn't translate to these long miles,
it's just you and me and something new, something old.
Me and the windshield and the dead bugs,
and flitting thoughts of North Carolina,
repeated songs, hard silences,
and something chilling about these dead towns.
Some salty Pacific air already on my tongue.

Something nameless to remind me that being young is bittersweet,
and I don't know what I'm running from
1.2k · Feb 2011
Poetry
Emma Feb 2011
Her fingers touched at black-and-white,
caressed candle-flickering light,
glanced across a scattered scene
and picked out words, from inbetween
the spaces in her sight

The sofa screams, her daytime dreams
are faceless in the night

Trusts to fail or feel, a rusted wheel
of claiming wrong and right

Close the circles caught in knots behind her eyes,
open up to shrinkwrap sighs
grow the glowing trail of colors
twisting in the air outside: and rise
the sun is in a pair of eyes
a web of words, an unknown prize,
and hours away
a person reads, and cries.
1.2k · Aug 2012
Some arbitrary title
Emma Aug 2012
The crack starts beneath my feet,
weaves down the street,
ends in a shadowed horizon
Bleak
I'm five slips away from some sort of leap
One breath per beat, beat,
beat.
Small steps. Indecisiveness surfaces from the stream. Time trickles.
The river is behind me, I want to jump backwards.
Flip. Finally. Face up, **** up, fall. Fail. Flail. Fight. Faster. Faster.
Whispers echo across rocks.
Whines like sirens

My fingertips are encased in firelight
What have these hands seen?
They dance so freely

Fright in the form of leaden limbs
at the center of a maze
I want the water to take me away


Spinning blindly. Take a risk? Make a bet?
What are the stakes?
Cracks in my bones, fatigued from falling.
What's gonna break?

Eyes are unfocused, the world is a blur, my mind is a haven.
Heaven is a trap.
There is no map.
There is no road.
There are no rivers, no streams, no rocks, no echoes, no moments to take with me as I continue to fall.
Time never stopped.
Time never started.
I never stood still.


Take what you will
1.2k · Jan 2013
Washing down the weeds
Emma Jan 2013
Remember me.
When your eyes are caught in the moment
by the fire of your own lashes,
the iciness of your breath and swallowing
your fears, facing your thoughts, surfing
through the city, flipping
notes and papers
off the skyscrapers
binders half-sunk into the concrete
I will rip your soul from those closed eyes if I ever
have a say in the colors of tomorrow
I will feed you grass
I can't be passive, I'll whisper
into your insecurities and try to make contact
with something

Tomorrow there'll be fireworks, lighting the
night, helping us forget
Something repulsive glittered into
the blackness like fireflies glinting off oil
We're all sharpening the edges
of the double-edged sword that plunges
straight through our bellies,
drips red off the back end

We're living off
the momentum

We spin off each other daily
laughs distorting around the
corners,
around the next bend there will be daisies
there will be daisies
there will
be

at least one of us

I can't stand the silence,
so I dance it,
I wanted to pull you in but you were too busy making fire.
1.2k · Oct 2012
Sunday chills
Emma Oct 2012
When the wind blows due west,
through the corn fields, past the seasons,
past years of the world building itself up into cities
past buildings falling down and people re-birthing themselves
past me, hardening through moments of loneliness
swirling around me several times until stone chunks fall from my face and
crumble into the ocean -
I'll wake up and find you

I'll be born in the ocean, next time
there will be other currents that pull me from my center
and push me in random directions
I'll find new explanations
and make friends out of fishes
There will be new expressions
sputtering from my mouth when I touch the air occasionally -
I will long for you

Catching raindrops in my mouth
Waiting for teardrops to consume me.
My body is broken.
Eyes are broken.
My only friends are numbers.
Aching bones, skeleton heart beats -
I will die before knowing you,

I think.
Warm water through fingers hits the sink
and drains.
There's always something to gain.
White ceiling touches white walls.
your name on the white walls

Soft hands : worth callousing
over and starting fresh,
rolling the dice I'd hope this time for a prettier mess
I only want to love
1.1k · Mar 2012
The limit does not exist
Emma Mar 2012
Catching my reflection in the mirror, I noticed that I look beautiful today.
I look like still sadness, or slight grief, or a breeze through eucalyptus trees.
I smell like the sea.

I feel like a storm, or like the shore freshly pummeled by waves.

My skin is peaches. My skin is rain. My eyes are rain.

I want it to rain so that I can cry and belong. The sadness never stops with talking.
I'm talking all the time now
tying myself into knots and hanging my brain to dry when the clouds die

I'd like to slap you.
If only anger could boil over and burn our eyes and make us all forget
I would callous over my burns and it wouldn't matter anymore
Layers of burnt skin



I'm like an orange, I think. I'm easy to peel
and easy to eat away piece by piece
1.1k · Nov 2010
God's fingerprint
Emma Nov 2010
This is the pattern I see behind
my eyelids
and when I look at a leaf
or perhaps just the ocean from afar
It's in my reflection, looking up at me from
the rippling water
It's in the veins of my hands, which I
don't know so well
It changes like the moon day by day,
but the cycle repeats.
It's a song; music; perfect
It's in my head, clear like bells, and
then I'll lose it in a moment.
I can follow it but never recreate it.
It's everywhere. It's the taste I feel in my pores.

Sometimes I'm lost or afraid and I think
I forget it's there.
I lose the pattern; I close my eyes and
see nothing.
I disconnect.

This is you, and the pattern in your eyes,
and the energy in your gaze,
connecting me to the world.
There's a song in my head again, clear like bells,
like music; perfect
found in a moment, in a gaze, in a touch,
in a smile, in everything
I remember it's okay.
1.1k · Feb 2012
No Marbles
Emma Feb 2012
I walked alone that afternoon, the middle of December
an unusually warm winter
                65 degrees, I shed my jacket with memories
of shivers
                On the playground, with the taste of slides, and foursquare, on my tongue, I
                Ran through the swings and monkey bars and laughing children, I
                Laughed into the wind, chest forward, hair flying, eyes invincible
Eyes like fire
Rain came without warning and your footsteps caught up with mine,
In rhythm with the beat of the drops
Our hearts beat in rhythm with the drops on the asphalt
                I walked alone, but you crowded my thoughts
Brother, you haunt my mind with memories of when we fought
                I’m running again, to shake off the wetness
I’m shaking off tears, I swear I’m doing my best
                It’s the only thing left I can do is to cry
                And breathe, sometimes, without knowing why
This moment is silly I’m thinking
A private moment like this, how
Invades this feeling
of sand, it’s sinking
                And I’m waist-deep, in my own wasting speeches
                And your voice is caught in between, like leeches
On my skin in the places I can’t reach
I remember orchards, and peaches, and sweetness

I am the feeling of remorse, my hands are coarse,
My throat is numb, my God, I’m done, I’m done, I’m done –
But I can’t stop
Sometimes
The walls are magnetic and they dictate my moves
Keep pulling me back and forth, back and forth,
It’s no wonder we have such problems of self-worth
and the kids these days
Have such problems with shame
                I have such problems with shame

I threw your picture out the window to stop my madness
Were you serious when you said my voice meant less?
It resounded and warped “I am meaningless”
It’s replaying now, sanding down the most vulnerable places in me-
The places I told you how to reach-
to be unrecognizable
                           I’m wondering what will happen when I can’t recognize myself
The room is shrinking
Make a decision, says the sun
Crawl away, says the moon
The stars can’t tell you what to do
Swoon
Throw a tantrum
Throw a large, heavy object into something precious
Throw away everything material
Save your memories, and your body
Jump – somewhere beautiful
Claim your stakes somewhere uncharted

Write, write, write, write, write, write something nonsensical
Write something perplexing
Something annoying
Something you can come back to in the times you need space





(Welcome)

Feel safe; this moment is whatever you make it
1.1k · Feb 2011
2.1 - Taller with Perception
Emma Feb 2011
Above my clouds I found
a color wheel, round
and sedentary like my body
used to be before I
claimed it as my home

Similarly, the colors spun and
swirled just like when
I walked for the first time in years:
light airy bees wings,
spiral striped feelings

And at first I fought
the unfamiliar lack of gray
and why was my head above the clouds anyway?
and what were these nameless things?
forgotten feelings?
What gave me away?


Standing straight becomes
easier with practice.
Emma Dec 2012
tuck my face behind the camera
myself in the shadow of the corner
colors slashed on paper
fingers raw from the strings
my eyes heavy lidded,
I never knew that self-deception was such an art
or that my inner critic
was my greatest enemy

embrace change?
I always have

Now my throat sighs and misses joy
My limbs do not celebrate,
they yell to me
too quietly
my brain runs the show
It has run down the tracks
This is sly flirtation with death
stop talking

I want to listen to the water and the trees,
I am paralyzed here,
fear for the future

pathetic
screams the monster

pick myself apart at the seams
something birdlike and cryptic
but not beautiful
1.1k · Sep 2012
the God hermit
Emma Sep 2012
I.

Tick, tock.
Snakes on the clock. Brains. Skin. Air. Hair. Coils of fabric, and teeth.
Oxygen reeks. Stales. Pales and contracts.
Breathe nonetheless
Pull on a dress. Pull on a vest.  Step outside. Feel the wind.
Oh, the days I’ve spent-
Instantly forget.
Put on my face
Roses in a vase
Feelings cased in the closet
Filling space

Seems sometimes we’re just filling space
What a waste



II.

Deep breath
Rose-scent fills her head

This could be it, she said
You’re too pretty for that, he said
Black and white embroidered with red
The cold air stung her lips as she read
This stone is where I’ll lay my head
The ground is made of bones
She’s alone



Steps on gravel, sounds awake the night
Jump into the abyss? She might

Memories of childhood fights
Initial dislikes
Periwinkle paint sets and tights
Once, learning to draw a rose
Once, hanging onto a hose, drenching strawberries
With brother in backyard
Family is a golden memory
At least there are pictures



Boy
The first one she kissed on the lips.
It was a dare. Fleeting but his eyes dripped sweetness. Twelve years young? She can’t remember. She ****** the same boy, drunk, four years later. He wasn’t the first, though.
And he still seems innocent



Hovering tensely
At the half-open door
She’ll never feel loved again.
She said.
Aches. Heavy ferocity ready to tumble. Dread.
Wake-up song every morning in her head.
The ground is made of bones.
She’s alone.
I’ve come this far. Revs up the car. Tears down her cheeks.
Runs over herself repeatedly in the street.



Why so gray?
His lips hold secrets
Autumn hay-stack drenched in dryness
Cool but bright, he’s a working man with a voice made of sunshine
Her eyes twinkled hello at his fingertips’ first brush-by
Smiled and walked away
Perhaps another day



III.

...

Rain soaks my skin.
I was walking, computer and books weighted on my shoulders,
Lightning crossing my path
Relax
I’m visualizing math

The air is cool. The wind rolled darkness in on its back.
The storm is roaring and strobing the sky
I’d like to derive your kind
and the rhythm of my mind
From the grains of sand left behind

,

And listen to the song of the sea

.

And float in the lingering breeze
As the storm dies down
The night’s dying down
I’m counting for now,, and "you"
Are a ghost of an idea, wispy but fresh but

Unformed
Much like the memory of yesterday’s storm

...

As I was drenched in the shower I could only think about taking pictures of my memories and tearing them into a storm
A catastrophe -
I'd laugh.
I'd call it art.

This storm is ******* beautiful.
1.1k · Apr 2011
looks
Emma Apr 2011
have you lately
maybe
rainfall will be
paved in solar reflections
twisted perplexions
frozen expressions
pitter patter eyebrows on a golden platter
frame the faces faces
going nowhere nowhere places spun on
fingertips
frozen lips
wordless have you ever noticed hips
hips thighs cries
hides denies
replies the faces faces
made up places
relief the end of
races
1.1k · Jul 2011
Horizon
Emma Jul 2011
"home"
...

you could say it, sway to it, pray for it,
shake it away, it could take it.

if you stay, though, you might never embrace it.

It's the cold and the crash that strike
holes in the soles of your feet as you bash
and enfold into lichens and teeth,
and the places you breathe,
and you stop for relief

and the places, the places...
you were hanging on branches, raining long faces
singing sad praises of things that you wasted
and wish that you stayed for and felt some remorse for
and took to the graces encased in the

graves you've returned for,
days that you've paid for,
ways to pass pain over
tumults of things that you changed for

and all along, whistling a song,
wistfully thinking of a place to belong
sighing and singing of places to roam
you find yourself in this space you've been shaping
and realize you're home.
1.1k · Nov 2012
fin
Emma Nov 2012
fin
Fingers.
Of all things, I'm losing my fingers
One by one, skin patches struck by cold and beautiful music,
flaking off into the leaf piles
I want you to understand
If I had knees,
I'd be on them
Bent backwards and sideways
And that of all places,
I'd choose somewhere beautiful
that of all worlds to travel to the end of
And reach
today
where maybe the end  is around the corner, and
maybe everything has some deeper meaning,
And maybe underneath all the disagreements we're all just people looking for a home in each other -
I'd be here.
Fully.
I fought to be here.

Honey.
I want to call you terms of endearment.
Because the world is a child I want to hold and nurse to health.

I love with my chest - those things I bury inside myself, I want to transform into sunshine and spread outward. Cradle inside of me and let me hold you-
I love with my eyes if you'll look I won't look away. I'll try my best to see you wholly.
I love wholly. And I love
Delicately
With my fingers.

And I sing
And sprout wings in the spring
And grow, green
I'll pull you up with me.
Softly, I'll pull you in
With my sun-soaked fingers
To the sky.
Dry and rising
Higher than high-rises

For all the hate and spite and regret and everything that ever struck
the wrong chords and left dissonance reverberating behind it,
wherever the wave crested and crashed,
I will plant a flower.
Dig with my fingers into the earth,
I love you.
1.1k · Sep 2010
empty windows
Emma Sep 2010
remember windows.
Raindrops pounding against them as we cowered on the couch
safe, smiling
remember your smile

windows were your eyes
when you let me see your soul
I gazed for hours and we shared our secrets
remember your laugh

remember the window where you snuck in
we whispered as the night gave way to dawn
we wished it could stay dark forever
remember your embrace

writing at my window
I watch for you for hours
I shiver, aching for your arms...
remember how you used to smile.

I can stare through windows but I miss seeing your soul.
Emma Feb 2013
Tastes of metal. Tastes of rust.
I take wisps of music from the air
to try to fill up the hole.
I am not whole.
I ******* own limits,
my own blossoming self-doubt.
I am afraid of learning to hate.

I want to be the answer to somebody's question.
Is life so short that love will
evade my outstretched fingertips?
Water droplets and flowers on the ground,
and peaches.
Hugs that end too soon. Can
I ask for it to stop? Can I take
a breath?

Do you draw your own lines or
watch them form around you?
Or did you not notice them at all?

I want to be someone's wispy,
wishful thought,
drifting to touch the ground,
back in the air with the wind,
I bet it would taste like
freedom.
Having no choice.
What a paradox.
1.0k · Nov 2012
Sandy
Emma Nov 2012
It's like this I've been
trying just to hold your name
in my hands
for a minute.

Before they were close,
(and you were closed),
I soared with dreams of clouds.
I pulled them to me,
they passed me by and brewed into grey.
A hurricane crashed against another shore.

Even the slightest sunshine breeds confusion, in places like this
drizzles of complaints, dazzled me white,
you drug me down. I cried floods about
rivers soaking rainbows through the streets somewhere else.

It doesn't make sense, this other-world where
the sky throws tantrums and people hole in
and life goes on
and people like you don't communicate,
don't ask about the sky and its sorrows and the wandering stars,
don't ask about the gray and brisk and colors,
you of all people I thought appreciated, at least, the contrast.

Well here's a contrast that you're obviously oblivious to:
silence.
The sirens have stopped.
The lights will rise with the sun while a city sleeps,
walls on the ground. Switched perspective.
Broken glass...
remembers sand and the origins of perplexion.
I am a grain of sand, softened to sweet simplicity,
flowing through rivers and settling in a new home.
Alone,
and alive.
1.0k · Apr 2012
rabbit hole
Emma Apr 2012
It's been a long time since I've looked at myself in the mirror and asked who I am
prodding a reflection to see how long it takes to change

That kind of thinking follows you- it preempts every step-
step-
I'm swallowing confusion whole. In a daily pill. A color for every feeling.

I was thinking about my circular habits when I caught myself there, again,
a black hole in the glass fragmented like..
children, transposed against war
myself, the child and the war-maker begging for peace
the harsh lines cut across valleys of wheat

cut me down, I'm begging the blackness, make fault lines out of my hate
across my body, slash my body, curl up and disappear into my body
take my body and teach me to float
I'll volunteer my soul in the name of love, lovers, loved, loving... forgiveness.
and float there in a dream that a human doesn't stand to realize any time soon, I'm sobbing for my lost dreams and stuck in my own memories, I mean --
I fool myself sometimes. Because things are harsh and harshness is perception. And connectedness comes from letting go. And ******, I've been stubborn since birth and I was stubborn when I knew God and I'm stubborn now I don't
I don't
I don't. Tell me what to do, because I'm tired of beating myself down


I once tried starving myself raw
and realized the hard way it was never an option
I miss that kind of numbness. I want to believe that the ones I want to see know how to look past skin. I'm - wanting - to float. I'm... wanting. I'm wanting in components of human nature lack lacking lacking love

I
never ever would have ever admitted
self in grounds of coffee. down the hatch, down the drain, downing levels of consciousness as days homogenize and fears are realized and
slowly drowning time
rationalized
mine
body is mine
body is dying, legs are dying, eyes are dying, drooping, dropping like flies fl-fl-fl-flying
to fly
dreams of flying
I had dreams of flying
I have dreams of flying and every day I'm dying


This is blackness reflected back. apathy.
warped cognition slides through me cold
I don't know how I got so old
1.0k · Nov 2012
Sandy 3
Emma Nov 2012
I'm still stony from the storm.

Sitting cross-legged in the grass. Half of me is underwater.
Half of me sings praises to the sky.

Staring at empty hands:
all I need is air, world, here is my cup.
Offer my tears to the ground,
all I have is flesh and I'm sorry.

The familiar is translating into a shifted perspective,
mapped through my hazy half-watered views.
Questions bubble to the surface, they always do.
What is you? What is me?
Who are my companions, here?
Hands shrivel to a close, I am empty somewhere

so many of you: hiding your sorrows in the drink,
in the non-speak and waters-flowing-greening-the-path
of self-discovery-through-phase-denial;
pain for later,
pancakes for now.


I am so old,
my wrinkles are bared in the sun-exposed rock,
heart beating beside me, cup full of storm-water
and storm-blown watery eyes
dripping softly into the scenery
behind me

the world is infinity

next to that I am a pinprick that never fully bled nor healed
1.0k · Oct 2010
Branch
Emma Oct 2010
I like the roughness of bark and the feeling of sturdiness.
the texture, unique and familiar like a footprint fading in the sand,
more trustworthy than most things that grow and change
things like people unknowingly trained to lie
like fingernails that dig up flesh,
fingernails that were dead the moment they tried to breathe.

I like the scrape of bark on my bare feet.
After I flinch and almost stumble
My heart pounds; I feel real.
I hold the tree and it holds me.

One day I will put up a swing on that branch,
trust it more than words or feelings.
I'll swing in a sundress and feel the sky.
I'll sing to the tree that doesn't judge
and its leaves will whistle along into the wind.      

One day I'll climb up the trunk with bare feet.
I'll go past my branch and go higher
feel twigs snap and scratch; feel it smooth like velvet
At the top I'll have wings.

I'd like this to be my world, so simple
I like the way I feel alive, in the wind
with the song of the leaves
with sun-tickled skin and a head full of smiles
with bark under my bare feet.

I never told anyone that because they'd laugh.
I'm waiting for somebody who will listen
instead of waiting to talk
I'm waiting for someone to see me like
I can't see myself
and (if I'm honest, if I remember what honesty is)
to hold me back from running away.

Arms are more comforting than bark
but I wouldn't know.
Anyway, a branch won't die.

If you want to find me, I won't see you.
You can yell, but I'm not sure I will recognize
real words.
I've only heard screeches and barks, and lies.
I'll be at the top of a tree not looking down,
standing on a branch with bare feet
waiting to grow leaves or wings,
or for someone to sing and laugh or say my name,
or to help me remember love.
Emma Jan 2013
I've been wondering where you'll show up

If you surface as a hum in the wind,
faint but reassuring, touching the exposed skin of my face,
your briefness would match ours,
you'd scatter my thoughts,
laughter trickling away from me like the days
that stand between me and the time I touched against slowness
and saw it as something beautiful,
You'd be gone as soon as I saw you
...Just like I'm afraid of

Maybe you'll be a cat, wandering around corners,
wise, mesmerizing eyes
I already feel like there's something you know
and I'm desperately craving it

Perhaps I'll stumble upon you,
in the form of a sprout, reaching into the air from the earth
green and vibrant and alive with a freedom my
chest hasn't felt since your lips left
me breathless

It certainly won't be you as your real human self, though
no tall form will fall out of my dreams and into reality
Much as I've spilt my desires into you (without your knowledge),
built you up into my angel
my fallen-from-the-sky lover
trapped in my never-ending thought bubble,

You won't save me

much as I'm sick of the loneliness

My metaphorical angel,
I'll leave you as a memory
let you gently remind me of soft times
and hope to meet you again one day.
985 · Sep 2012
Jay-walk the moment
Emma Sep 2012
Secrets:
My daydreams cradle you

when your voice is raspy
you are still the miracle of music,
tapping my eardrums

autumn rebirth
smoooooth caffeine highs and your eyes
***** afternoons

as the sun sets:
taking pictures of a row of benches
shadows caress the corners of the frame

slowly persuading my shadows to blink
blink
you're stretching out my midnight mornings
I'm swelling, my heart is a sand castle
that could stand to be built up and broken down and built again into
something more beautiful.

Sunshine settles in...
We need no filters

Take my hand without asking, please
take my eyes and kiss my skin with your warmth
take me - me -
do you know what it means to give you my body?
a plunge into the future through fears of the past.
Jump with me.
976 · Oct 2012
Fall checklist
Emma Oct 2012
By Day

make a point of smelling the air reeeeal good every morning -
almost tastes like the mountains. like apple pie so crisp it
cuts you open,
spills you out in the leaves.
leaves
go play in them. Make your mountains if you need to be dwarfed some
times it's worth accepting lightly
the way the sunshine tips its hat and colors you flat on your back.
These scenes are meant to be stared at by awestruck, nameless people.

By Night**

the cold might surprise you , he's an old friend who
missed you dearly.
in a good, warm, windswept way be prepared to
lose your favorite socks, and part of your
concept of self,
and find laced-up fingers that more than make up for it
don't shut the blinds
always bring a blanket and
openness, writhing and bursting curiosity ready to
trap the last flash of storm before morning-time
will slow and you will become raw
in the moonlight.
Make music out of the air by the fire, there's so much to love.
969 · Jan 2011
Making Love
Emma Jan 2011
Cracking shaking breaking taking
fingers touching grasping slipping
eyes connect, bodies gripping
whispers gasping particles clasping
worlds colliding, and skin
The world is skin and sin
and redemption
Love is art and finding connection
when vulnerability becomes protection
Shed material
Find your spiritual
Be your physical

Trust: unweights your heartbeats: Must.
Two become one.
962 · Feb 2011
Squeeze
Emma Feb 2011
We're taught to love straight lines.

It's this thought I wrestle with
as the road I choose turns and winds,
it's the 25-mile-per-hour speed limit kind,
it's so slow, so ****** slow and most
folks resent the view and miss the show.

Air compresses stronger than steel
at the sight of this mirror I reel
trying to find straight lines where none exist
trying to find the steps I missed.
Movement forms a breeze
of leave, and I drive.
960 · May 2011
Signifying?
Emma May 2011
speaks the sepia soldier, what say you-
the grass no longer greens
nor is greener blurred through waters-
temperatures rising tasting compromising flavors
savors sun-kissed fables
staples followed Mable
Mayflower, spring strings with color
streaming ribbons gleaming
glass against fingertips
and breath- like a tiger, or a rat
frantic like the dying man's last rap
prayers echoed like-
air.
falls from the precipice to another peak,
"we never speak"
precious, precious, pretentious
quote us phrases, lay we down like concrete,
in concrete
surrounded by concrete where we'll dance and it won't matter that
we aren't dancing
954 · Oct 2012
process of alone, I
Emma Oct 2012
Heavy lids, lighthouse waves sputtering on the stone between steps,
the sound strangles you / breathe silently
exhalation loosens your limbs longingly.
Rhythms break the continuous system /
derivations of wordly conditions /
crouching tense in the reeds, jump to break gravity /
crouching beneath the monitor, ready to cut wires /
snips bright white
chunks of
hair on the tile.
Emma Nov 2012
My wick is underneath the surface
trying to catch the flame

as the wall between me and the air shrinks,
the light glows deep
the sun penetrates me
the sea holds me here,
breath in my pocket,

and you are behind my eyes



I swear, I swear that I'm beautiful.
This time when I open myself
a thousand singing birds will
fly from me full force
I will be metal.
and rain.
and sea.
and storm.
and calm.
mostly, I will fall with the flowers
and be skin colored.

I will not need a kiss to be awakened
but I'm looking forward to our paths crossing,
wanderer
Your eyes eat the broken meadows
and glaze over, snow-dusted, in the mountains.
928 · Nov 2010
Note #2
Emma Nov 2010
Oh, and to address an accusation
aimed at this modest flirtation
it may not be a source of inspiration
but neither is it purposed for your indignation
it would be my preferation
that you'd allow me this infatuation
it's small, it's really about relaxation
to laugh; it's such a sensation
I've missed the sense of relation
to another human creation
for the complete duration
of our joint exasperation
at this painful situation
926 · Dec 2010
Gritty Teeth
Emma Dec 2010
I'm tripping over myself
falling into a
funny daze or a dance or
a trance and I can't recover;
I'm running circles
in a paper house that's bound
to tip or burn into the ground.

Shackled by leaves and vines,
confined in words and rhymes,
lost in a moment trying to find
peace within my mind
Longing for a place that's just
Over there, just there, I must
Reach it, keep walking moving
constantly moving, the earth
is moving without my help so
I can't stop for long or else
I'll realize I'm useless.

I call it thinking but I'm a liar
to myself and I'm a fire
determined to never go out
and never tire
My "thoughts" are only circles, only games,
and my face is never the same,
every day I change again
and try to avoid my shame again
running circles in my paper house that's bound
to tip or burn into the ground.
922 · Dec 2012
I am behind the monster
Emma Dec 2012
Monster,
making me your monster,
I know your games

I may be trapped
but I will
I will
find my way out,
**** you
life is beautiful,
I am ID
and ED
and GOD
and everything else that has mixed meanings
******* dichotomies
and word jumbles
and brains splattered,
right here. Turn away, go back to your pattern,
go back to your story and be ******* comfortable.

Not today, I said to the monster,
standing up,
you manifest as a bug
a cockroach, I hate those things,
and I squish you.
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