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Emma Apr 2012
But who am I??
yelled into the sky silence


If I could
I would
take a snapshot of the falling leaves, swept with the gust,
sideways through postcards
above rooftops
settling softly, caught between the fingers of children on a playground
another picture of leaves scattered on the ground ahead of you before you leave home
scattered on the ground beneath you as you thumb through memories,
take the hand of a loved one,
and run singing into the night
the leaves danced with you in the night

The sky is black, gray, blue, and all shades of the thoughts that I've been unsuccessfully forcing away from myself
The clouds are heavy with melancholy
It makes me think of sweat
so badly wants to
drippppp and disappear, repeat
Buildings set in stone
Buildings are stone
brick, red, sandy, dust, chalk,
my skin is drier than it's been in years

If you look carefully you can just make out
the fabric of gold stretched thin and weaving through the air
I always wanted to believe we were all connected


Somewhere there is a desert full of air
and lonesome happily a cactus sings into the air

Every new song sounds differently depending on your perspective
I always wanted to be open to new perspectives
I was told to educate myself, and write every day,
and always always be kind
I see it in reflections when people aren't looking
Water muffles your bad intentions and everyone
looks good upside down, in ripples, with nameless lights
You eyes were alight the night I wanted to find you for the first time
You could tell -
and you ran

The night followed you
I watched you in the moon for months, and I cried into the thunder
The lightning shakes me with empowerment still
always
still always - the air is constantly moving, those pieces of gold
are like strands of hair trying to find lovers


I'll wait through the rain til my bones make contact with gold
I'll wait for shocks, I need to wake up and not feel alone
You haven't answered me yet
Emma Feb 2012
Security.
Confidence, competence, common sense,
purity.

I'm caught in my own obscurity.
I'm terrified of finding the truth-
Running distraught through the
questions I've sought after,
tired of playing the sleuth

to find facts that I don't want to know.

The stage is set for the show
and I don't want to go.
Emma Mar 2012
he said what do you feel when the wind blows
eyes out like the sun, back bent straight
coffee dripping in corners like moons in the nighttime

all I want is wine and poetry,
but especially wine
I said
thinking of kissing fingertips
and fingertips in my hair
and learning how to breathe

you get rusty, with the wind
I'm rusting in the wind
Even my fingers
breaking off and becoming dust
in the wind
Emma Dec 2010
you told me to draw you a city
so i did
and you told me to draw you myself
so i did
and i asked you what you wanted with
two pictures that look exactly the same
you smiled
and you told me that
you can always put windows in walls

just like i was hoping you would.
Emma Dec 2011
As if anger is never enough when it comes to me fleetingly, sparingly,
sweetly if you'd believe it,
I'd taste it and spew it back out into rainbows that land in thorns surrounding you
I want to hurt you, I want to be alone

My whole life I've been trying to help people
I've been trying to help and draining myself
I'm used to the kind of air that leeches off of me,
the kind of folks that leech off of me,
the state of being of shame, for the ways I can't keep myself alive

And I try and stop trying, live and keep dying
moving and stopping
If I open my eyes near you I become too repulsed to keep rhythm
If I listen to you I sink faster into the places where I can't feel

But with you before I've felt the sky in a million flavors
And I've cried in a million colors
And now, I have a million ways to say that I'm confused.
But I'm done.
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.
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.
Emma Nov 2010
I don't dream, like I did, so many days ago
of your skin, lips, tongue; I don't
want to; I
have no need.
If I could close my eyes forever
and collapse and fall past my bones
and speak in our language
I would know satisfaction.

It's not my body, it's
my being
craving the long-lost touch of you

I want to forget looking down
Gaze with me
we'll connect
again
Our hearts will rock together
again
(but differently)

I know you are trying to
break through the barrier that is
a body, turned from me,
running.

I won't cry, I'll just laugh
and peel carrots and
paint windows with math and
lace up these running shoes,
and wish I could run away, too,
and wish I could chase you.
Emma Jun 2011
in it seeped from around you all around you the world grew and
you pressed your nose up against the glass to try to see it, and cried
because you couldn't see it like you did
(was it only two days, hours, minutes ago?)
couldn't touch it, couldn't move
trapped in incantations what is ego
forego free go trees grow leaves show green
no
soft imaginings
hard, sharp imagining things
too bright to see, hearing things
how do legs move, teach me,
don't look at me
you pause-
you've been pausing for a long, long time.
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.
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.
Emma Dec 2010
Alas, the static in my ears
never fails to crumble
returning me again to tears
and another attempt to fumble
with my web of tangled thoughts
trying again to learn to untie knots.

Silences and 'there's and 'here's
become a quantity in years
of words unsaid and yet unknown
to older people yet ungrown
because we chose to never face
a past that we cannot erase.
Emma Feb 2012
Let me explain.

I blend in with the crowd once you chop me into pieces.
Sometimes I'm tough, but you can pound it out of me.
Sometimes I'm mushy and I get tossed in the trash.
Sometimes I'm tasteless.
Sometimes I'm tastelessly prepared
or tastelessly presented.

I've been both fatty and lean.
I've been through thick and thin only to be chewed up
and sometimes spit out
and sometimes digested.

And I can't be fed to the vegetarians
because the people that look closer
might see the signs of suffering
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.
Emma Dec 2012
The words are locked inside me
always pouring out behind me,
you know how it is
trying to pick apart the pieces,
and put them together correctly
the psyche begs to be unraveled
thread by painstaking thread
days when the needle is dull,
and there are no words
and all there is
are words
Emma Dec 2012
It's like this
If you live in a world where people
have always kept their heads down,
they will tell you that the sky is made of asphalt
you will think that they are being pessimistic,
but they know nothing different.


I must get away from these people
This place has the kind of gravity that pulls
you into a disease
I seem to be the only one who's noticed
Emma Aug 2010
the air is a current to follow
it pulls me
my body acts without a mind and i'm
somewhere
where?
not really curious though
not looking seeing hearing smelling tasting
not being, just going
i'm under water and my eyes are shut
i'm gasping and pulling in water
i'm gripping sand on the ocean floor
feeling it swirl away
with the current
it pulls me
i'm on the ground
damp earth
eyes wide not seeing
breathing not thinking
hidden in shadow, desperate for sunlight
afraid.
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
Emma Apr 2011
How come stuffed animals get old?
You wanted to pretend that your parents weren't "cool" and you'd grown up so much that you didn't have those moments in the middle of the night where silence surrounds you and you're struck by the fact that you're desperately, helplessly alone and afraid- or maybe you did but you wouldn't need something to squeeze for reassurance.
You never asked until someone told you, and then you wanted to be best friends with your mom and the quiet, intellectual boy who sat in the corner and never took notes or made eye contact- you called yourself an artist so that you could be the millionth first girl to paint their hair and cut it short and stop sleeping except in the middle of the day.
You started to fear sunshine, probably because you couldn't see yourself and didn't want anyone else to, either. You avoided mirrors and moments alone, and you forgot what made your fingers so delicate - it wasn't the loose grip on a cigarette - and you forgot what your voice sounded like because you never stopped talking; it became your peaceful silence to dress up as somebody with confidence and talk and laugh without hearing what you say and touch as many bodies as you can - when it's only skin, they're all the same...
People move too much to hold you up, and someone let you drop, more than once... You can keep getting as angry as you want, but it isn't their lack of love that's keeping you from realizing that you've been the one leaning on people and trying to use other people's feet... They're trying to love you, but it's hard because you never stopped long enough in front of a mirror to figure out who the ******* are.
They'll always be there, and you'll be the last person to realize that you need to leave them behind.
Emma Apr 2012
Blah!
blah bla blah bla blah blah blah blah.
writing. words. periods. trees. sunshine. thunder. weight. muscles. smiles. grass.
colors. flying colors. paintings. art.
pain put into art. feelings put into
words. communication. the beauty of connection.
The constant of change.
The pain of constant change.
The way the world lights your soul aflame.
The way the world locks you inside yourself with shame.

The million ways to say
I don't know what to say

The relief of a space to ramble to myself. and for however much it does no good it does some good. if only to fill time.
If only to forget time.

Space. the vast places we find with our eyes. I search for more eyes. I want to see something deeper, to call myself deeper, to soul search like there's no waterfalls tomorrow to jump off, close your eyes, give in and take a risk for - like there's no somebody tomorrow to close your eyes and take a risk for -
like there's no somebody you're soul searching for

Feelings. crushed by small nothings. small, insignificant nothings folded up into shapes from 80% recycled paper and re-recycled, the same old same old same old things that we never talked about


Do you like your paintings hung straight or tilted?
I like them overlapping, covering the walls, I make murals out of pieces of art because I want to be a part of something special and I'm tired of words
Emma May 2011
they were calling you some sort of modern genius and it sunk lower than the irons that drug a stranger to the ocean's depths
you were walking without shoes to train yourself to the cold, hard reality that set in when you
woke
up.
thinking about feet never solved your real problems, though, and they consumed your genius brain like words soaking in your skull coming out of the womb, like an alien language being shrieked in sirens, jumping you out of shivers and bones and whatever you considered home
at
the time
there were people all around you, with strange faces and no faces and words again, but with people the words were blossoming; yours were maybe weeded out and you spent all your energy trying to nurse them to life, and **** out all they could give you, but you cancelled yourself out in the process of thinking you couldn't stop thinking they called you
obsessed
and time was passing, passing, blurred-
all you wanted was to blossom with someone.
Emma Feb 2012
Stepping softly makes the grass breathe
easier, I imagine

I like to touch the trees as I pass by,
the bark leaving a tingle on my fingers
I like to imagine that in my fingerprint a small spot of warmth
is absorbed into the heart of the tree
I intend for the tree to understand I mean
"Thank you"

I whisper when I'm by myself.
I imagine the wind to be full of words
of soft-spoken wanderers,
content with the slowness of
deeply breathing the world in.
Emma Sep 2010
Zombie
sleep on the sofa
with eyes open
wake to walk to wander without want or will
stare into nothingness
think without thought
act without care or conscience
forget

the numbness swallows the pain
there is no fear of fire
or even blackness
we only fear feeling
Emma Nov 2010
I can't express myself quite right in this endless glaring light
of judgment
stirring sweat beads, clenching to hold my calm, failing?
I am trying to not be afraid of the fingers relentlessly tapping
and all of you with animal faces
we are running backwards in a painting on display
I haven't blinked in so long but I think it's okay
because I'm underwater.
Emma Mar 2012
I'm outside the glass box, watching you
You don't want pity, sweetie, but I pity you
I remember the days of leaving all to blue
Showing skin for want of love
Miming moments seen
on TV
on screens
in scenes
You'd give all to be seen

Walking with a stilt two paces behind sober,
shivers bared to the air and the eyes of adorers
You tug lightly for a kiss and he succumbs
before maintaining the gait
You've only put yourself out as bait
to be eaten by looks
This love that you're seeking can't be pulled in with hooks
and ***
and sadness

You're see-through
He pities you too
Emma Nov 2010
She's a wrecking ball creating a path of destruction
playing the arts of deception, seduction,
afraid to love, she lashes out against
herself, her family, friends; now she just resents
all those who left her in her madness
and all along, it was only just sadness.

I don't believe there's a soul to love me
but maybe I've fulfilled my own prophecy.
Emma Sep 2012
after you touched me
my confidence lasted
a full day

softly...
your hand was warm

it was just a brush by, really

and it wasn't even a soft spot

just exposed.


I want to mix with you still
leave cool spots on your cheeks
softly...
drip down your legs.

the air would be yellow sun around our heads
Emma Feb 2012
The surface of the raindrop in the fading light told me,
as it fell and seeped into the soil,
that perfection is attainable,
but not physical

Through bubbles expanding,
refracting rainbows -

I see how I've glowed in perfect ways

in now, this one sphere's landing
and disappearing
pop
death is beauty beyond sight

as a child I learned to hold onto those things
(wouldn't you like to swing on a star?)
but if you touch a soap bubble you lose it
like the sight of the sunset the first time you're content with the silence
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
Emma Mar 2011
I
NOTICED
the single snowflake fluttering softly
amongst the downpour

I know that things like
wings and roots
are sometimes invisible
(touching is better than crying-
or more sad, one of the two)

The world was never made of ice or marble
but that didn't stop you from sculpting,
not even when the nails came up like
coals and we ran faster
or when the grass came with flowers and
we fell to breathe, to feel, to laugh

You are worth
EVERY ounce of hope between
me and the sun
We are two artists: sculpting and hoping
in this world as long as this rock
holds us.
This was a very inspired poem from the bottom of my heart. It is not written for a particular person. If I could, I would hand this poem to everyone in the world and say sincerely, "This is for you."
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.
Emma Feb 2012
I do
feel the break of your
most true, shining, unreserved smile
coming over the horizon


No one can hold bitterness inside the
lines of their face forever
lined with memories and broken memories
and truth-be-held-for-fear-to-see
and broken backs for fear to be
and the haunting of eternity
and waking up, refuse to be
standing up, your tears are free
your soul is free

your determination
sparked at dawn revealed
to run from this damnation
hard
fast
harder
waking up your eyes without a stretch
seeing for the first time the ones that knew you best
all along inside your beaten heart repressed
now walk inside the lines of appreciation
and outside the lines of classic creation

were those moments that you spoke of once
a child
a voice
a call
here suddenly aside the spot you left behind
with nowhere to hide
nowhere to hide
you don't want to
hide

you're here for the ride.
Your face shines of joy.
The wall was inside but before
you died behind it
you said "Yes" for the first time in years

You don't need to hide, there's still brightness
inside where you left it, still held
for release with your tears


And I feel the break of contagious happiness
and my most true, shining, unreserved smile
coming over the horizon.
Emma Jan 2011
They say the sun also rises
because it does
and it's a pretty thought to
cling to when shadow falls
light sparks blacken
down abysmal lanes
of dying forget-me-nots
and daisies, daisies

They say challenges make you stronger
because they do
but only if you catch a break,
because a weight will only crush
your hollowing bones to
powder and ash
and you'll be swept
away before you
even say
wait

I had to shout before I blew away
and I still could only hear static
but through my dripping heavy
shadow-clouded vision
I saw a ray of sunlight
rising, and others too,
and each with a face and
a voice and something
tangible

I'm beginning to feel your fingers,
all of you,
holding my body that's so
ready to burst
and my brain that's so
ready to
give in

Maybe in my mind people were burying me,
when in reality I was burying myself,
and all these people were trying to keep me alive

Funny how it works like that
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.
Emma Dec 2010
You say rock I say row
You connect and I glow
When sky alights night showers
ringing from bell towers
You smile kaleidoscopes on
my soft glimmering hopes
and I flutter on water
drops from high mountain tops
rustle down with the leaves
to your echoing pleas.

You say please take my hand
I say don't try again

But it's heavy on earth in the rain
And you know I'll give in once again
when the sky darkens up and I see
that a spotlight's on me
and the strangeness it brings
and the lightness of wings

And it's hard not to laugh
when the air smiles in star shine
and bells chime like sky rhymes
even sitting on top of a
mountain of clocks
and giggling tripping
and falling down rocks

And it's hard not to laugh
at your persistence
despite my resistance
because we rock and row
and connect and glow
as sky alights night showers
ringing from bell towers

and I would have been sinking in sand
had I not grabbed your hand.
Emma Feb 2012
s    o        p

s        t          o        p



( s  to p ........)

s
t
o
p




s  t  o   p           . . . .               a   t                  s  c r e  e

                                                           ­                                  n
                                                               ­                                     s




s    t   o    p          l   o      o    k     i         n            g           .......

.
.
.


stoplookingatscreens and go be

STOP looking at
screens and
go
be



STOP LOOKING AT SCREENS

There's a whole world of real things
to see


Go on, go



Sincerely
Emma Jan 2011
Who's going to help you up after you were dropped?
Who's going to clean your scrapes? Your scars?
Who's going to give you smiles now?

The world turns upside down and you
can't even cry when you're hands are so empty,
all you can do is yell and thrash and
put on a face that hides nothing
and inject misery into your bones and
be the perfect picture of everything you didn't want to be

What, did you think it would make someone save you?

Pick yourself the **** up!


Your tears run like acid down your face
and straight through my heart,
not because you are crying sadness but because
they aren't tears; they are unrealistic expectations
And by now you should know that time doesn't
turn around
and no one will ever "unchange"
and no one will save you from your misery because
you're determined to hate

yourself


Answer: You are only alone because
you can't accept being alone
Emma Sep 2010
This place is spotless like your hands
after you washed off all the blood
maybe you didn't want it to dry, to stick on you
maybe you thought that it would be harder to
leave
if that happened
maybe you knew that if it dried, the color
would remind you of rust
I know it does for me...
like the rust on your truck
that's still in our driveway
maybe someone should cover it, or get rid of it,
since no one likes to look at it
well
they all left
but I don't like to look at it.
I see it all the time up here
because I don't sleep, I only watch.
I guess I'm happy they didn't see my blood.
I wish I could stop myself from seeing hers.
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
Emma Feb 2013
I have a secret, too
...do you want to trade?
Emma Mar 2014
Is it possible to be engulfed within yourself?

My insides are an ocean.


If I could, I would float away from all this nonsense
dancing to my heart's content on the cloud that flew me out of here
reclaiming my boldness, fueled by the bits of light scattered about,
rays of golden-ness spelling "forget, forget, forget it all"
dancing on my eyelids, sculpted sunrise, salty tears
"please, just feel this moment and be a part of it."

Please, just feed me back my feeling
Please... cry, wholeheartedly.
... What even is this beautiful world without the emotion that keeps it spinning?

Love is golden light on pine trees. Love is a clear river.
Love is your fiercely beating heart. Love is full immersion.
Love is rawness.

Please, tell me how to find that in this vending machine.

Tell me if you see rainbows when you're on the treadmill,
please teach me how to be human when so much of this world is telling me to be a machine.

Tell me how to forgive myself for choosing my brain over my heart?
For sitting still when my bones want to run and jump and dance and swim.
For forgetting how to play!

Forgive me for the woes of the world, for the things that I can't change but still feel the weight of. Forgive me for consuming. Forgive me for hurting. Forgive me for not giving homeless people money. Forgive me for my selfishness, for my biases, for the mistakes I make over and over again.

Forgive me for my humanness...
And most of all, help me reclaim my humanness.
For love is the most human thing I know, and I'm struggling to feel it.
Emma Nov 2011
the days you wish you could skip filled with
feelings you want to numb away from or even worse actually
manage to
fill yourself with the numbness of ignoring sunlight
and not noticing touch
and not enjoying the soft things
the gentle things
the faint outlines of day smeared with shadows
and caffeine-soaked eyelids -
I can't tell the difference between open and closed
I can't remember the reasons for doing
keep moving, keep going
prioritize staying awake and bypassing
the things that conjure smiles and
the smiles
and the things that cause inquiry
and inquiry is seeking life?
bypassing life
taking steps without feeling the ground is
breathing without tasting oxygen
is being a robot

crash into sleep like a wave that overtakes you
like admitting you have no strength
or nothing left to give but a headprint into a pillow
Emma May 2011
Sometimes...
The world closes you into its arms and you get freaked out.
You always wanted that feeling of being held... but it isn't worth losing your sight...

Sometimes things are dark.
One wonders, while they watch
another blindly ***** at air,
what one might find if they
adjusted.

Sometimes the air is black,
black like behind your eyesockets,
filling your lungs like the tar you swore to never touch-
so deep it seems to seep from your very pores,
seep..... and harden.
So much for flying, there goes your monstrous visions of
avoidance
You are the statue, frozen, groping blindly at nothing for eternity
(not that you would have necessarily moved very far)



Still, though, your tears stain the pictures of people you miss. To you the world is boundless, but you seem to see it differently than all of them...

Still, though, MY tears stain your pictures. To me the world is boundless, but I seem to see it differently than all of you...
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.
Emma Sep 30
The breath of the mountain fogs around her as she flows over mossy rock. I have to duck to enter the grove of manzanitas guarding her banks. Crouching, I enter a womb-like space of moss-covered rock beside her calming, swishing, gurgling banks. I climb the rock and sit, reaching my toes to the surface. Cold and clear and rushing by, the water touches me and sends shivers to my spine. I bend, bringing lips to the surface, and drink. Lie back.

Only five minutes' walk from home, this secret place quietly lives.
I haven't told my... partner.
It feels too sacred here. Like the inside of the womb. I feel that I can come here to escape, and to rest, if I carry reverence in my heart.

The creek refuses to take my loneliness, though. I offer my tears and she swallows them. I dream of becoming a river creature and diving into her, being carried away.

What is that perfect sound? How her water is shapeless yet becomes circular as it moves around the rocks, sending bubbles to the surface; somehow together the water and rocks ring out a sweet song. A softness that catches silence and invites listening.

The river is like the rhythm underneath my heartbeat. The song of my bones.

I can feel it, and a drumbeat dances out of my hand to my chest as I sing:


My body is the Earth
Mother, I can feel you crying
My body is the Earth
Mother, I can feel you dying


My voice has picked up the richness of the forest's dank soil, the mustiness of the moss and decaying manzanita leaves, and somehow too the clarity of the stream itself. Tears roll down my cheeks as I sing and drum to an audience of trees, moss, and creek, where my voice feels heard and safe and my heart is cracked open, one with the forest.

The hardest part is leaving, though I am more whole than before. I give my thanks to the water and crawl out of the mossy creekside womb, emerging at the edge of a gravel road in Southern Appalachia, North Georgia. Gravel crunches beneath my feet as I make my way homeward.

I never share my song with a human.
Emma May 2011
I can see your eyes
trying to hide behind glasses you surmise
no tendency to free nor fear to be

I waited as an outline
watching curtains fall to further shadow
making out a hunched figure -
shaded but clear as the note
you purposefully wrote illegibly-
Look at me!

You walked away bent and kept
your curtain nailed to your head-
and I gloriously alight instead.
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
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
Emma Nov 2010
So this is the one thing you'd talk to me for
to say you have enough scars
and don't need any more

I wish you'd throw it in my face
instead of sending it sideways
I wish you'd scream and yell of all your pain
that I've caused you all these days

Spit in my face, I'd be happy for the contact
and I wouldn't need to react
I want to hurt and let you see it
Don't care? I don't believe it
I don't believe our lives aren't meant to touch
Neither of us can really walk without a crutch
I miss having you to lean on; it wasn't much
but it was everything at the same time
Nothing compares; not even  small crime
(the excitement isn't so sublime)
or reason or words or perfect rhyme
(and I can't even rhyme worth a dime)
Life makes no sense in this trench in
a constant state of pain and tension
Waiting for a word or  healf-hearted glance
to break me from this wretched trance

I wish you knew I was hurting too
But you'll see me trying endlessly
and running into trees and breaking my knees
and crying as the sun sets on my chaos
because it just doesn't end, it only morphs
and lately I'm so alone that nothing matters
Love can't stop the wind and rain patters
and darkness may swallow my mind but
I might not care to ever find
myself again
and hurt myself again
and hurt you again
and make no sense again
But I never made sense...

Despite all my uncertainty I know I can't be
the one who lets you slip away from me

So I have a response, to your message
that I received today
(from a friend, in your sideways way)
I want you to know that
I see your sadness and pain
I see your scars and fears
I'm filled with shame
I'm disgusting and deserve
the nasty names
Yet I look forward to the day of your forgiveness
when maybe I'll have cleaned up this gross mess

I'll keep looking and hoping for us to lock eyes
Every time I try my fear amplifies
Sometimes I wish for a disguise
but I'm done telling lies
Emma Dec 2010
The rock lies forgotten under a
crescent moon, nestled in the
riverbed where dreams and
smiles flow and splash
against the bank

Glanced by toes
and dogs' noses
transitory contact

It has no name
but in its face is a wisdom
one can only find where
time changes nothing.
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