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Elise Emilia Feb 2015
Curved succulent stacks
of spongy golden flapjacks  
drizzled with sappy
syrup, begging for butter.
-Lotsa love, Aunt Jemima
Elise Emilia Oct 2014
There is something much quieter then sleep
For her to wish it every single day
She wears the morning upon her cheek
Her bones shivering beneath                                    
A faint dry sound cracks the air
Thicker than rain and hail
The trees are painted rubies
As blood red as shattered eyes
Hiding the truth beneath blue
In which sets these autumn skies
Drowning in the fumes of death
Her hair soft lifted in the wind
Sinking her everlasting grin
Elise Emilia Oct 2014
I used scarlet to outline lost
Upon my naked figure
But when I crossed the t
I began to cry
The pearls I wore clashed
With the rubies
Which produced a shade so cruel
That it cracked the plaster
On my ceiling

I vandalized Hope that day
- Never again will I finger paint
Elise Emilia Mar 2015
Engulfed in frost
Heart still beating, hardly living

Keep moving
Run...... to stand still in a field
Of forgotten bitterness
Alone with fog and absent joy

Outside, Spring flourishes over Winter
Smothered wool stuffed in an attic
Thick colors of regrowth reveal its end.
Elise Emilia Mar 2015
Saturated streets
reflect smudged rain that smells like
the sharp taste of blood.
Elise Emilia Nov 2014
What did They inject me with? Hello?
My eyes adrift

"The ocean, sweetheart"

That small voice unfolded in my head
I still couldn’t see

"The sky observed from below
Through the reflection of the sea
Its atmosphere was dark
A storm arrived
"

Her voice was muffled, like my ears were stuffed with cotton
They could be
All I could focus on was the sound of my own voice
Speaking like I could actually swallow

Lightning ripped across your temples
And tore you away from me
Electrocuted your pain


I could feel her shoulders tense
How long had I been out?
She spoke her words through shuddering window panes
Like her soul was weeping

It released my tension in your filling
You didn’t see it coming
You couldn’t even feel it


Oh
My senses awakened without me
I noticed the familiar fabric of the fallen beneath
My vacant body
The scent of bleach and sound of shuffling feet reminded me
That I was on my ward

You’re going to be here a while, aren’t you
It wasn’t exactly a question, but a concern
I hope not

“Oh good, you’re awake” The nurse came in without so much as a knock
Are you sure? Good is a relative term.
I kept my eyes floating on that vast ocean
The void of infinite awakenings is exhausting
And yet
I feel better
For now
Elise Emilia Mar 2015
Do not hurl a ball at someone’s head for pleasure
The innocent will cry, dazed with distress
Fainting, falling in central park

The neighbors have a donkey named Herald,
Asleep in their bathtub after 7PM, call 911
Dreaming, screaming in Oklahoma

To sell one’s own eyeball in Texas is to make
An appointment with a future inmate
Humiliating and need some bailing
Elise Emilia Mar 2015
But you said nothing could stay

I did

In a constant state of free fall

Paused


and shaking
Unstuck in air

Suspended by the time it took you to realize I left
The last time you ever got to see me

And I was already gone.
Elise Emilia Feb 2015
A confined finch cried.
How insistent it was to
have ruptured the wind
Elise Emilia Mar 2015
The sun spies on the city and burns under its gaze.
Blushing
Workers bake in the heat of the day while constructing a new site for the sick. Their shrill drills bust up loose chunks of gravel and dirt, releasing an abundance of debris that surf the breeze. A lucid hummingbird soars beyond the commotion.
So sudden.
It towers over skyscrapers with a youthful heart, emulating the shivering helicopter that slashes the sky above.
How rewarding that bird’s life must be to have sustained through its years with a heart like a jackhammer, steadily bashing against its ruby *****. The overwhelming core within its fragile, willow form strives to move, to breathe, to swiftly drain nectar from budding botanicals.
What a satisfying life, so rich, so fulfilling. And yet-
Exhausting
Like pressed petals amid pages, its wings begin to tear.
Struggling
And for once, its jackhammer begins to falter. Has it been granted a break? Perhaps it could be a reward for its burden? Alas, it stops, mid-flight.
Falling
Falling
To
Float.
To
Transition
To
Be
Still
Meanwhile, workers below the smog consider their watches for break. The resonating sound of that aching jackhammer goes unnoticed.

Even concrete breaks under pressure
Elise Emilia Nov 2014
Pregnant clouds
Giving birth
To the
Rain
That swells
My bones

I no longer
Admit
To that dull
Throb

— The End —