Emily

Emily Dec 2012

he's down for the count
face marred by age
or misery(though no difference)
he sits alone at the bar
alone
for now,
he remembers -
find a 50 dollar ***** tonight.

worth 50? Hell,
he'll give you a hundred
(call it compensation - emotional distress)
because money is dirt
that **** means nothing

life is poverty
when madness is wasted.

"Christ," she said
"you're useless," she said,
"I'm old," he snarls,
"we're all ruined."
he chugs and chugs
to burn and burn
all great men rage.

he crawls to his death bed

and dreams a beautiful dream that God,
or someone,
would save him.

Emily Nov 2012

One Yellow Sock

She slipped on her most prized possession;
one yellow sock (the other worn til its end).
Her mother had fancied them at the market
and gave her daughter
something
to call her own.

Cultures clashed,
she had caused trouble in the tribe
bringing in foreign customs
but she had thought it foolish
to not be proud of what she
owned(even if they were yellow socks).

Now she watches her own daughter dancing,
pink sandals strapped on tight,
she thinks she will teach her daughter well-
perhaps as an American might.

Emily Nov 2012

spring cleaning

I'm lonely, I say.
Grow up, You say.
It's 4 a.m. and we have no answers
only questions
only cares
so we **** instead.
except I cry
and it ruins the mood.
you light up and wait
wait for me to finish
it's not the first time I've done this and yet
you still stay.
just keep pretending you don't care-
and keep cleaning like it's your job.

Emily Oct 2012

The Last Letter, part 1

Ma ya home?
I called
and
knocked once.
nobody
answered though

and I thought
maybe
that drunk you met
from
AA
would answer.

he didn't,

probably busy at the bar
toasting to
Jesus
slurring about the
piece of
***
he scored
on the way back
from
AA.

you're right,
he is a catch.

but no worries-
don't call
back.

it wasn't
important
anyway.

Emily Oct 2012

i love lullabies the most (i think)

i wake in the morning
though never from sleep,
rather
shaking off demons
that live in day dreams.

crawling –
crawling –

worms in my head
i shout
“get out!”
get out.
i weep,
“get out
-please out.”
You leave.

no-
not You, never You.
i’m hysterical.
i’m content.
oh well,
oh well.
no one said this made sense,

simply convenient -
we need to forget.

i scratch at myself,
i’m dead.
i drown.
i don’t own my mind
a darkness surrounds.
it murders my soul,
what will i feel? what will i be?

nothing.
i’m nothing.
a slave to disease,
i hide under covers,
this sickness I’ll please –
or else..
… what else?
what more can it seize?

victims screech from the street.
lullabies.
sinful sweet lullabies,
they sing me to sleep.

Emily Sep 2012

This Woman's Work

"A woman's gotta work!"
                              mama always said.
"Fix a good meal, fold your clothes tight,
wake to make your bed every morning,
and know how to treat a man right,"
                              well I don't cook.
                              well I don't clean.
                              and I certainly can't make my bed,
                              but I did learn one thing from mama
                              cause you know what she said,
"A woman's gotta work!"

Emily Sep 2012

Like Jay and June

There was once a small town in Texas
who birthed a lass named June.
June stayed at home
and June felt alone,
but Texas was all she knew.

Then came the day
that June met Jay
who was beyond that town.
They packed in the night,
pulled out of sight
and left without a sound.

Years had passed
and the couple moved fast
but June need move no more,
cause Jay found a home
where June's never alone;
that's what love is for.