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Emily Jones Jul 2019
I see you in the little things
The straight lines of the fence you built
The shape of the swing you used to sit
The way the wind blows the leaves of that old oak
That you planted
With your dad when you were young
It was you favorite
Still is
Imprinted on you stone
Others will think it pretty
But I will know
You loved it and with great sad joy smile
for Marion
May 2019 · 192
Sticks and stones
Emily Jones May 2019
Sticks and stone may break the bones but words are the only thing that hurt worse after
At least a black eye will heal, a shattered bone will mend
Flung like careless knives words can ruin lives
Words leave scars thick like canyon grooves
They bury themselves in the subconcious like a plague of burrowing maggots
Rotting the mind with its filth
Till they are the only thing we believe anymore
Despite their truth value words are the weapons of abusers and the careless cruelty of emotion
Words wound worse than sticks and stones ever could.
Emily Jones May 2019
Its 2 again and like an old friend Insomnia keeps the dead waking
Swinging the doors of the mind wide open
Haunting me with my own doubts
Shaking old fears free of dust in deabilitating detail
Till my minds screams suicidal thoughts at the wall of crushing anxiety
That just bubbled up my throat like some sick truth that I can't determine I really feel because it was dragged forward in all this nonsensical late night rush
Like a gerbal I feel like Im circling around and around on that wheel thats never really going anywhere but keeps
Spinning and spinning away into a manic spiral that has periods of ups and downs
So chaotic I dont even recognize my own brain in the madness..
Cyclial and almost predictable
When everything was going good and then just suddenly isn't...
Emily Jones May 2019
Can we go back again
To where it all made sense
To 98 when things where great and Saturdays meant cartoons
Not 6am and work again the same day in to days out
When sundays were spent outside an adventure in the trees
Scuffed knees and cherry seeds stuck between the teeth
Where an an hour had the power to make your imagination run
Instead of counting time by the coffee grinds that settle in your cup
Where did the magic go in this adulthood trap
The only thing that seems to linger from childhood is the urge to nap...
Emily Jones Feb 2019
Sometimes life feels like a rotary wheel
     d        r
    n         o
     d        r
    n         o
it goes.....
The spherical dichotomy fades into monotony
      g           i
   i                  r
     n             c
sdarwkcab into some dark fiction that has become the day to day
Waking to dr
Forwards between a repeat of the next second of last week
Where l-i-n-e-s of memory are /b//l//u//r/r/ed// making each moment a cons?ued mash up key details.
That take energy to pick a p a r t into some semblance of an existence.
Jan 2019 · 281
Just another cat poem..
Emily Jones Jan 2019
The loud thumping from high places
From the stalking in small places
Erie eyes around the corner
And suffocation without warning
He stalks me from room to room
Eyeing me down in displeasured doom
From early mornings and late at night
Hes overly attached and still uptight
How he rules from his furred throne
If you didnt know by now than consider yourself told!
His baleful glance can stun grown men.
He promptly plops down and states demand
King Doodle rules ons comand!
But how sweet his face is in delight that you can not help but give to his plight.
No matter how many times you trip being mad just doesnt stick
Not to this ball of sweetened demand
King Doodle we are yours to comand.
A cat poem for my demanding companion. King doodle of the fluff kingdom.
Nov 2018 · 159
Thoughts and Squirrels...
Emily Jones Nov 2018
I have questions
About so many things
Little things,
Big ones,
The ones no one else seems to see
But mostly I have questions about me
Why I say
Why I do
What I think
How did I get to point p to z..

Sometimes I can barely follow my own thoughts
They stray like squirrels on fire
Screaming down the back of my brain
Till I lose concentration on one or the other
The fire rages...
Perhaps I should put the squirrels in cages?

Sort them by size or by color...
Give them hats or a vest
Festive and cute
How they preen..
Wait why is that one green
Emily Jones Nov 2018
Why is it that I am not content
I can not fit into any mold I make
No matter what form of job I take
I can't be settled
Poised in a place for long times
Always dreaming of something else
Seeking something new
Going from one job to the next
Looking for a black sheep in the midst of white
Why can't I find something that I like...
Maybe I'm really play-doe I fit into anything. Wish I could find something that feels right.
Emily Jones Nov 2018
Can you explain to me why this soliloquy keeps echoing in my brain
The inner monologue that sets diatoms of infectious thoughts inside my head
Where they grow expand and reprimand all my decision's and bits in-between
Not to do this
Why to do that
And who would care anyway
I wish it be as empty as canister of air
Full but not
Forgotten would be all my faults
And this inner referee silenced
The murmuring of all that could be Sshushed and stilled
A dreamless quiet would be ideal.
Emily Jones Nov 2018
If it doesn't grab me
Then I can not commit
If it doesn't obsess me
Take me hostage in a consuming Stockholm breathless gasp
Then I can not posses it
Make it my own
Intergrate it like some sick horder grasping at straws
Hoping to breath under the weight of her convictions
As if born again
Anew and anew under some binded faith
That this new me this better upgraded me will be worthy
More adapted
No suited
To be loved in a world that is increasingly lonely.
Its hard to empathetic and make connections.
Oct 2018 · 201
To express poetically
Emily Jones Oct 2018
I can feel it tremble
Thrumming on fragile wings
A gossamer of fickle flicking fledgling thoughts
Struggling to gather into words and articulate the notion
That fleeting flagrant fondness of emotion
That touches the inside in such a way that there are moments of bare bonding breaths between two complete strangers
Tapering into a singular human experience
For a nano second of time where you and I and the world connect
Like my heart is cracked open the most vulnerable parts of my soul
Oct 2018 · 112
Finding balance
Emily Jones Oct 2018
Lately I feel on that upward grind.
Where peace and happiness merge into one conglomerate mass of experience.
Not floating in the chaos of uncertainty
Choking on gasp of anxiety that hammers the heart in an uneven staccato
Tap tap tapping against the ribs like some frightened mouse
Running ever further from it all
I seem to have settled
Thriving underneath the yoke of dual work
My inner and outer self aligned
Jesus it's about time!
Emily Jones Oct 2018
Words die like flies
Flinging from my tongue
Cascading down the back of my brain like melting ice cream on a day too **** hot for inhabitation
Trickling in sodden pools of anger
So deep I can not see the bottom
Where my anger festers like a wound infected by the filth that is you
You who takes this innocent and neglects it like three day old trash left to rot on the side walk
You make me sick
I cant stand to see an animal abused. I see it every day while working with dogs. People can be ****.
Sep 2018 · 86
Beyond words
Emily Jones Sep 2018
I've never been really comfortable with people
My heart is too raw
From the lies, the deceit those expectations not met
All those hoops I was never meant to jump
Stick out like rotten wood on a new fence
But animals?
They speak my language
They are easy to love
Hard to let go and a comfort that goes beyond words
Sep 2018 · 108
Poetry maybe?
Emily Jones Sep 2018
Sometimes I wonder if my words are to vague
To st-ru-ng out in w€i£d stanzas
         ping from ○dd an》gles
In such that they don't transMUTE
Into working works
Emily Jones Sep 2018
Somewhere between four cans
Of sweet metallic madness
I found myself dancing
Lost in the murmuring wave of a rasta beat
Leaning into the bounce and jive of the jammin swing
That made me feel the beat the bellow the warp of time
Closing my eyes to the glowing halo drunk on the feel of rain against my lungs
I did not care
I did not worry
And for a moment I was in no hurry.
Sep 2018 · 107
Remembering the rain
Emily Jones Sep 2018
It rained like there had never been rain before
Soaking the concrete floor
Dimming the Edison lights
Prickling softly with their golden halos
Sweet easy music danced in the twilight
Melodic, hypnotizing
I could feel it sparkling along my skin
But the real moment was in
How you stood there in that gown
Its crocheted lace cream, wet with mist
An umbrella in hand
It's clear plastic glimmering like jewels Leaning for a kiss
From the man you swore to never live without
It was magic
Though it was wet
Your smile drowned out all the rain.
For my sister your wedding was something of fairy tales.
Emily Jones Aug 2018
Words have failed me in the end
Flailing about like some broken thing
Listless and blind
Unable to articulate the sheer terror
I feel creeping from behind the mask
I shove onto my being
Like a child in ill fitting clothes
Smiling as the world burns...
Feb 2018 · 149
Emily Jones Feb 2018
Could love ever shine through this jaded soul
Through the dusted cobwebbed corners
Into that little dark corner I pushed it
To forget about it
To never remember the joy it brought me
The acceptance I still look for
That screams for it from the flat surface of canvas white
Look here
See me
Out in that most primal way
Hoping to here it echo in someonelse
Emily Jones Feb 2018
Days cake to my fingers
In the cracks and crevices
You find the blacken evidence of my artist vice
Clinging and staining
Following me into those other parts of the day
That demand me to fit
Into a box I've always overflowed
Those bright nail beds scream for freedom
From the eyes of strangers
Dec 2017 · 302
Emily Jones Dec 2017
I'm counting hours like their minutes
My head ticking away the clocks metronome
Floating away into the silence of the predawn
On a sea of shaking nerves
Calmed only by the balm of deep breaths and desperate attempt at misdirection
This irrational dancing beneath my skin attacks in the calmness.
Dec 2017 · 187
Not sure what it is anymore
Emily Jones Dec 2017
2:43 the flashing of the colon light is burned into my retina
It's digital face I can not forget
The timeless monotony of the ceiling long having lost it's grab for
I stare mostly into the darkness look for an anchor to the numb that is my mind
I banished the silence long ago with the uncomfortable pressure of foam
Trying to kick start my mind liberate it from the listless void it has fallen back into
Stay in
Breathes it's shallow breaths like some sick starving thing
Where anxiety and insomnia meet so strung out
Feeling like the static in a television.
Nov 2017 · 185
Another night, another day
Emily Jones Nov 2017
Its one am and Im wet again
Trying to expunge the anxiety that creeps like marching ants
Under the skin against the brain
This energy that is ceaseless
This dragon I slay nightly
Will not stay dead
So I find myself standing underneath the raging spray
Hoping and pleading for it to all go away.
It's seems to be worse lately.
Emily Jones Nov 2017
It follows me
Into the room
Into bed
Into the morning
Into every waking aspect of my day
That niggling feeling that wont go away
Setting the teeth to edge
Making the bones hurt
With its edgy, alertness
Like at any moment my mind will freak out
Tumble over the cliff side and explode into a mess of emotion
The problem is I'm not sure what it will be
What triggered it or where that pins and needle restlessness really came from
All I know
Is its here
Until tears well and fall
The madness doesn't stop.
This is what anxiety feels like, punctuated over and over cyclical.
Emily Jones Nov 2017
It has become more of a conversation to a listless void
Written in an almost spoken manner
Words seem to tumble out of my mouth and onto a screen
Venting its esoteric nonsense to a muse that is either deaf or unable to respond
It is no longer an attempt to express love in that rhyme dime fashion or to detox in a Poe'tic fashion
It has become my random thoughts screaming out into the abyss hoping for an echo of something that isn't its own voice.
Poetry is like sending a message in a bottle to some distant place. Like I'm stranded on an island of selfness I get tired of my own mind. I need a Wilson to keep me sane.
Emily Jones Nov 2017
The old maroon fabric feels like the uncomfortable glide of fingers over a velvet poster
That annoying fuzzy feeling that leaves a bad touch after taste
Similar to the feeling of nails against a chalk board wall or the feeling of tiny insect feet crawling in the darkness of a room
The skin raising feeling that lingers
Creating that sudden down turn to the mouth in a way most unattractive but more real than anything portrayed by the movies.

That kind of disgust that can only come from the feeling of true honest to god antique furniture that refuses to modernize.
Putting to shame in that moment any other feeling of discomfort you have had in the last month.
But ****** if it isn't the most comfortable fall into never want to leave piece of furniture you own.
Forcing you both to love and loathe.
that one piece of hand me down furniture that is so comfy but tactfully gross!!
Emily Jones Nov 2017
I find myself awake in the endless now
Closer to the immediate time of midnight
That stretches in the echoing tick of a second
The true forever of the present

In the gaping maw of an endless moment marching forward
I can't help but wonder how its that we wake into the comprehension that the future is an imaginary concept that is never truly reached.
When between two seconds I have felt the breadth of an eternity
Breathing its hot and uncomfortable decomposition onto my being
Tallying away the moments until I am but ash on the pavement

That our only perception of reality can happen in the foreverness of a moment that becomes wistful of itself like some elder trying to relive the fleeting feeling of youth
That the past is only a recollection of the now in its nostalgic bubble
Painted like some old time movie in the cobwebbed section of the brain, that forgets important information
Like where the keys are and instead keeps the bitter burn of being in love for the first time.
The last time.

Its these lanquid seemingly shallow thoughts that keep me from dropping into the blissful chaos of REM
Falling off the face of reality and into the black nothing
My brain digs into conceptual conundrums, when really all I want to do is sleep..
Nov 2017 · 136
Why see just one color
Emily Jones Nov 2017
I see the world in rainbow colored glasses
Focusing on the bright boldness that is life
Rather than it's shades of gray
There is not a day in monochrome for everything is always changing
Shifting in and out of blues and greens
Every color in between
And what better way to love it all than to see all it's patterns fall
Beyond the rose tinted frame.
Emily Jones Nov 2017
I feel like my mind runs into itself quite often
Like the never ending thoughts overlap into each other until
One either collapses and gives heed to another
Or subsides like a wave to wash back over me when I least expect it
Its why I branch into a topic touching just the bare breath
Before ******* back into the racing void of thoughts that tumble
Like dominos one by one into each other in a chaotic jumble of half formed ideas
Which spread into streams of consciousness that seem to go on forever in a breadth to long for a single breath of air to make vocal.
This is why I feel grammar, or really the English language has never been my friend.
Emily Jones Nov 2017
Insomnia has fallen into my bed again
Taken the blankets and run away with the night
Like a bandit it guards it
Like Smaug it refuses to share
Flaunting its peacock feathers
Some exotic creature prowling the dark
Letting loose its seductive calls
While I sit here
Eyes crusted and stinging
Doing anything to still the anxious
Vibrations of my mind
Emily Jones Oct 2017
Have you ever been so hopelessly
Lost in a moment
Intranced by something so far gone it seems to detach from you
And wander like it has its own mind.
Echoing the stachato of feet so far down the stairs that the way back looks like a tunnel
Of never ending shapes
So distinteresting from the vividity
That is the present thought
That you dream that you did not have to wake to the reality of the now
Like a kid looking through a window on Christmas eve all that bottled happiness lays behind the wall of the mind.
I often find myself window shopping down that hall
Hoping for a taste of what was
Aching to catch her before she gets to far away.
Emily Jones Oct 2017
In the quiet
I hear the mumbling sounds of muffled words
The voices of strangers
Not close enough to understand
But the vibration
The tinkering richness that comes from spoken word
Flicker across the drum
Like sounds of life outside a car window
It vanishes
He hears it too, shooting off
A rocket across the bed
His soul green eyes flinging off the light of headlights
Ears stretched wide
It comes again
My mind straightens up
The body ridged..
Hoping to hear that mad sound again
Wanting it to make sense
Like so many t.v. shows
Debunk the mystery..
It does not return..and only the goose flesh
Plus the sentry movement of yet another feline convinces me it was real..
Moved into a home built in the least 3 known people have perished at this location...there are likely more. All good people all easy non violent deaths. But I've been hearing echos..
Emily Jones Oct 2017
I feel as though I am walking
Though my steps I cannot see
No direction
No center
A path uncertainty
A circle
A  square
No shape I can discern
I feel as though I'm walking
But is it forward or back
In a life of lucid dreaming it's hard to keep track.
Emily Jones Apr 2017
I wake from a dreamless sleep, or what I
think to be dreamless
Leaves a lingering feeling of terror, doubt, or anxiety
Like my mind doesn't want to deal with the left overs
So it cuts it off midway
Amputates the whole stream of thought
Till only whisps of what could have been remains
Behind forgotten like so many things in life
So many small moments that are not recorded or erased to save space
For what we think is important
Like numbers and codes to social media that if we are honest with ourselve
Doesn't make us feel anyless alone in our
Completely individual lives
That are copied and pasted from a mold of individuality.
Apr 2017 · 238
Emily Jones Apr 2017
The older I get the less real it feels.
Wanting to stay inside the realm of fiction
Where the world is harsh but hope is always on the horison
Where the hero always wins and adversity is mole hill
Not the mountain it is in life
But I wake back into the humble world of retail fog
Mucking through the day on pennies and dimes
Wishing that for a moment life was more of an adventure
Emily Jones Jan 2017
2 am is here again
And yet not I go to sleep
Between the worried flies and dreaming cries
Restless I seem to be
The what ifs and could be's
Chase me around the room
And I find myself sinking further and further into an adult depressive loop.

Unlike when we were kids
When worries were solved by others
The panic power of the day to day tower
Of fears and aspirations
Keep most of us from our greatest potential
And consequently a good nights rest.
Jan 2017 · 226
Emily Jones Jan 2017
I feel like a flightless bird
But not a bird who has never known the gift of flight
But a fledgling watching others find wind
Sail off into their lives on the breeze of self discovery and settle into the waiting branches with comfortable niches
Like a wind of change swept free the debris of doubt
But here I sit on the same rock ledge trying to unfurl wings that creak with uncertainty
The mites of doubt creeping between each feather
Leaving holes to big to face the weather.
Jan 2017 · 217
Emily Jones Jan 2017
I like to watch the curl of smoke from between my lips
That dancing wave like movement floating listly up and away
Back and forth undulating to a song all its own
Majestic in its travel pulling with it the trouble
The doubt the pain
All the worry
Floats away.
Jan 2017 · 933
Ode to the StarMan
Emily Jones Jan 2017
StarMan out in the great beyond
How you touched us all with your luminous song
The wondrous echos of your voice fades only in the presence of time
As the man who fell to earth
You left a mark
On each of our down trodden hearts
StarMan out in the great beyond
Always here and never gone.
In remembrance of David Bowie on the one year anniversary of his passing.
Jan 2017 · 205
Emily Jones Jan 2017
I dont know what to feel
My mind is confused existing in a jumble of mix emotions that spread further on the liquid surface of the mind
No matter how far I swim they stay just beyond the reach of stretching fingers
Shifting and to the music of a disturbed mind in limbo
Between desire
Making nauseous with anxiety.
Dec 2016 · 413
On rainy days
Emily Jones Dec 2016
Sometimes I want to curl up and watch the world
Pour a cup of hot coffee and spectate
Just for a little while pretend Im outside of the chaos
Instead of rooted in it like so many others
Step back and enjoy the quiet
Remembering what its like to be at peace.
Dec 2016 · 316
Viva la Revolution
Emily Jones Dec 2016
I want to bring color to a world so set in black and white
That it beats a a spalttered tattoo of unforgivness
Flow to the stagnation of hate and freedom to the prison of prejudice
Like a revelation I want to speak into existence a toleration for all things
For all those that dare to listen
Emily Jones Dec 2016
Sometimes I fill like a glass too full
Like one small bump will send all the liquid spilling
Out into the open
Like a shattered egg dripps white yoke onto a surface
Almost as if only some parts will be seen
And the warm soft yellow center of my soul will be ignored.
Dec 2016 · 253
Emily Jones Dec 2016
I move across the canvas
Like waves move across the face of the sea
Smooth languid strokes of vibrant color fill in the hollow spaces
Where my creative mind buzzes
On the blissful blossoming beauty of self expression
Emily Jones Oct 2016
I gave love a name once
But now I hate it
I hate the word not because of the word itself
But the feeling it provoked
Such beauty was fragile
When it left
Like a bad taste in the mouth
It tangled itself around my tongue
Sweet and bitter
I hate that I love it
It loves that it hates me
Oct 2016 · 253
Emily Jones Oct 2016
I wish I could live in a bar of a song
Lost in that blissful movement of notes
Until i vibrate out of existence, drunk on the euphoria of sound.
Emily Jones Sep 2016
Sometimes I feel like a night blooming flower
Wilting in the daylight sun
Drying up
Flaking from scorching expectation
Hot stares making me close up in side
Burrow into myself till there is no distinction between myself
and others
A placid mirror regurgitating the mockery
Like a parrot dancing to its reflection
Only to bloom beautiful in the light of night
Where eyes can no longer be so cruel and the sunlight of society can not reach me.
The cool completeness of myself greets me like a lover that come daylight I don't want to let go.
Aug 2016 · 209
Simple things
Emily Jones Aug 2016
The older I get the more cynical my mind becomes
The little pleasures are the only thing keeping me from stepping into the gaping pit of depression
Brush in paint,
Book in lap,
These small things create a foundation of peace
Simplicity I never thought I'd need it this much.
Emily Jones Aug 2016
The suns up I'm down again on that auto pilot drag
Running on the low hum of exhaustion
Class, homework, and work again the cyclical structure burned into the back of my retina
Eyes hanging in the ever state of caffeine compulsion
Falling the dead weight of a ten pound footfall
Were every moment is a count down to when I can get to sleep again.
Aug 2016 · 697
Student Life
Emily Jones Aug 2016
Its futile in this world it seems
To make a living
You have to dig yourself deeper into the pit
One loan at a time
One payment behind
One soul away from dying
Forever in debt to the government....
Such is the life of the student...
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