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378 · May 2016
Observations
Emily Jones May 2016
This world aint meant for the good anymore
They get subjigated under the selfish intentions of others.
Where honesty becomes just another lie.
And the heart is nothing but a romantic promise
Soon stomped into the dirt creating jaded and defeated people.
Humanity has lost its greatest power
Its ability to care for itself.
Emily Jones Jan 2016
We crave change like coffee
After a three am study session
Where lines blur and sleep is but a memory
We want instant gratifying successful change
With little to no effort
Like instant noodles of experience
Run over the hot water of ill prepared workers
Who are spit out of the machine to quickly
Yeah we all want change
But we don't want to pay for it either.
377 · Apr 2014
Mess
Emily Jones Apr 2014
My eyes are like dried fruit left to rot
Burning, and itching
From emotional cast off
Plugged to the nose with emotional recess
Head hammering the strangeness felt
At least in sleep I can escape this **** up mess
374 · Sep 2015
Forgotten remembering
Emily Jones Sep 2015
12:22 sets the mood for another midnight ramble
When the lulling rumbling suffocation under a twenty pound cat
Can't and won't bring sleep
Choking on the flighty flickering of memories
Better left buried
Not walking my mind like listless zombies
Munching on the gray matter of my emotions
No sleep would be prefered than reliving my heart break again
374 · Jun 2015
Untitled
Emily Jones Jun 2015
It is more than me
It has touched even you
Yes you sitting on that glowing screen
You have felt it in your feet
Trembled in your bones
Echoed in your mind
And at times even in your sleepless tumbling rolling in the
sheets that specter that stops you from sleeping.

But I will tell you I have loved nothing as fierce
As completely
That should it stop
I would think so would my heart
I shut down like a robot with a glitching brain
Panting that last trembling note
Falling from my lips to echo in the sudden silence.

Yes even with death I could not part from it
For even dead my being would shatter into song
Ripping from the ether
Like a winding piano toy
I should sing yes
Even into my grave

Singing "A beach in Hawaii..."
Plucking that soulful song
Fingers sliding that beautiful rhythm calling you from beyond the grave.
The way music calls me everyday.
Ziggy Marley: Beach in Hawaii..
373 · Mar 2015
Breath
Emily Jones Mar 2015
Could there still be love when you know not what I am
I who is changing
In the processes of being
Could the mind understand the non static of the self Believe in the morphing transcendence of the heart where
           I
          am
        NOT
     who I was
Will never be who I am and am forever in a flux of continuity
When you feel my heart it is not the same heart from yesterday
Nor... will it be tomorrow

      An event
            I        
          am

Is it something you could miss
Unfolding in the wavering hands of time
Shimmering with the vibrancy of movement
Being made and remade each second a molecule does stretch
Could you love me with the changing of every breath?
371 · Feb 2014
Untitled
Emily Jones Feb 2014
The muggy smog of early day
Greeted with its hazy lulling quiet
Making the tumult that was my thought flat line
Where this soft spoken neighborhood
Throw back housing and lazy barking furred tenants leveled back down from the clouded canopy where I float
Like a child on my back in still water
The ungelating  of the cosmos distracts me from reality
The ebbing harmony of self to world relation made a meditation blooming with the emptying of my own being
Where I stare bold eyes in reverent to stars

Looking at the heavens as if they held my heart
Had the power to both make me
And help define the limits of my being where I could not

Touch the place inside myself that I hide
From him, from her
The people I love most know not the secret self
That child whom worries and frets
Panics in its shell,
Stays like the placid lake
Unmoved stillness that meditative calm
Shaking the bars of my being until
The stillness turns rippling
Quaking the waving terror
Down the the drowning heart beneath the sea of calm
Choking on the need to stay silent

To regain composer and not be brought to the shore of reality
Where my being washed ashore
That secret self was laid bare
It's skin still raw from the air, salted with the shame of lost control

I become desperate to swim
To float
Get the grit and sand from beneath my toes
The nakedness unbearable
I cover myself with leaves
And turn away from the sun
Turn away from his light his warmth
It feels wrong to be so ****
He can see my body and I can claim apathy or moreover love
But to bare my soul
My secret self
Is a nakedness I cannot help but protest.
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
364 · Apr 2014
Sea
Emily Jones Apr 2014
Sea
Sometimes when I think
I feel like I can touch the world
Understand the flux of energy
The musing of the smallest flies
And stand in the quiet agelessness
Of forest green
Like some passenger song hopefully forlorn
Swinging the beetle rhyme back  and forth to understand truly what they meant to express

But other days
My idealism and enduring belief
Falters
Like equations in the sky I can no longer read
Symbols popping into existence
Meant only to discombobulate
Towards the doubt
Of my own self
Retching the violent swaying
Of the ground beneath my feet

Sometimes I feel lost
Wandering out to sea
362 · Dec 2016
Untitled
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 2015
You caught me singing in the waning light of day
So you decided to cut my tongue
You caught me dancing in dim twilight night
So you bound my feet in sick delight
You heard my thoughts as they ran free with pen and grace
So you took my hands and bound them in lace
You took my voice, my delight and encumbered my speech
But what you can not take is my mind
For that my love is and always will be solely mine.
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.
359 · Sep 2015
Missing Innocent things
Emily Jones Sep 2015
Fumbling the black out night
Were little light comes through the curtained window
Tripping over the discard of shoes
Pillows fallen off the bed and memories
Of when you laughed as I stumbled into the night bathroom clumsy hands looking for a switch
Waking for a three am bath for no reason
Other than to feel hot water on my skin
Sitting sideways to accomodate a second person in the too small bath
Maybe its not love I miss maybe its the happiness
The child like play I splashed bubbles against your chest
Leaning in for eskimo kisses and a teasing tickle to your side.
Its the little things the innocent wonder that I miss most
356 · May 2019
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.
356 · Oct 2016
Untitled
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 Jul 2016
In the length between this breath and the next
My mind is pleading for rest, the exhaustion of the day to day
Has me spinning in a bleary haze
Flitting like an angry fly
I walk the ever thinning line, of work the home and the school time rhyme
My enemy has become the daily grind
The ever beating poet heart is not meant for this selfish lot
A world of selfies, tongue painted lies, and the plastic smell of whats inside
More money, more things, of things that are me me me
Anything to stifle the yawning calamity
The holes of neglect betwixt the heart
That panicked feeling of being lost.
An offer of empathy becomes a cry for attention
For the love of God check your pretension
There is whole planet of suffering people
But not for them do you become the steeple
The narcissism that infects the youth makes me wonder what little world is left for the few.
354 · Mar 2014
Untitled
Emily Jones Mar 2014
Dancing shadows played chase around the wooded pier
Flickering flamed tongues captured the cold
Swallowing in big burning gulps
Until they drew swords and called draw
Leaving a line of chilling wind at my back

Where early dew clung to the back of my faded denim shorts in the late summer night
Crowded as close as I could get to you
Without being seen as some child
Lost in the company of your friends

I had not told you
That had never done this before
Met my lovers closet
The bits of weirdness that every one has
What we call our closest friends

I had never meant much to anyone for them to share me
Really see who I was
And find that pleasing

You laughed paying me no mind
Pointing fingers into the crimson light watching the copper wire
Spout blue and purple hues

In some low income trailer park were the sounds of dogs and crickets met the ear
Watching some shady deal happen behind the next house over

I found it there for the first time
In such a long time
That I couldn't remember the feel of the emotion anymore.
Acceptance

That night when we parted I was no longer alone
353 · Aug 2015
Loaded Silence
Emily Jones Aug 2015
It was never just silence
Tinged with anticipation
Grating like the hollow feeling of a dislocated joint
Grinding and petulant
Either yours or mine
The silence was not silent
But rather loaded
352 · Sep 2015
Self-shadowed Reflection
Emily Jones Sep 2015
The more I walk from who I used to be
I see her like a shadow in the back of mind
Still gripping his hand waving, happy
I feel his deceptive smile crawling upon his face like the many legs of a creeping insect
Deceit on his lip stick touched mouth
Her oblivious countenance innocent like a child

Hearing laughter I look forward
Some half drunk bumbling idiot, watery eyes locked radar pleading escapism
Too focused behind
I know her too
I'd know those curls anywhere
I feel where she's going, what she's trying to avoid
That wrong side of lonely
Curled around her memories trying not to feel.
350 · Jul 2015
Ill used Heart
Emily Jones Jul 2015
Its dusty ill used and dark
And no amount of spring cleaning could rid it of the filth of last september
Where you left it to rot
Mold and ruin
But summers almost over and the flowers of life have bloomed
Where long festival night were spent trying to forget
Dancing that haze minded stupor and sweating out the poision of words and betrayal
Till the grime comes free
The air clears and the echo of your voice fades
349 · Apr 2017
Reality
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
347 · Dec 2014
Life
Emily Jones Dec 2014
When i close my eyes i see it
With each breath i feel
Tasting the bitter and the sweet
Loving the music i hear
It is boundless without shape
Yet distinct in every mutation
The in all forms it is beautiful
In every eye unique
347 · Nov 2018
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
345 · Feb 2015
Waves of goodbye
Emily Jones Feb 2015
You never quite feel it
Till just before the show
Right at the grand creshedo
The "thats all folks"
But when it does come
It waves and ebbs
Rolling and rising
How the memories consume
Abeit and roll again
Shifting while I stand
Falling back in time
Till I'm that little girl again
Waiting by the garden for you
Not 22 and placing the last rose you will ever see in bloom
To my grandfather
344 · Oct 2015
To Love You Is To Starve
Emily Jones Oct 2015
How can you ask me to love you?
When you can't even love yourself?
For what you know of love is incomplete compared to everything else.
I could ask you to name the stars and you could tell me heavens mysteries
But when its comes to simple affection all is lost
When not engaged in the bodies sway and rhymes you wouldn't know how to have an intimate time
For sometimes intimacy comes from somewhere deeper
Somewhere closer to the soul
Its not always in a girls pantyhose
You can look lovely bearded and swave
But to love you would mean to starve.
This generations college men are more interested in ******* instead of relationships. Could you look at her/him and see more than a means to an end!
344 · Sep 2014
Love Don't live Here
Emily Jones Sep 2014
"Love don't live here anymore", she said twisting one silver ring. The echo of its body presented on the left ring finger the white line indented in flesh. "He left the lights on though. Smiling his tight lipped grin and tilted his hat. Like a man just visiting for the weekend. Some old time gentleman having done his work, the gratuitous clicking of fine shoes on tiled floors." Flicking her curled hair away from the base of her neck smiling a little herself a small sarcastic smile. "Something my grandmother would have witnessed. Pictured in muted color reeling like the screen of some washed out film. Black dots appearing on the back of his white suit pants as he pulled open the door the sway of his shouldered jacket swishing rhythmic in walk." " You should have seen it" she said "suave and dashing the clean dramatic expression and cool collected response." Chuckling to herself she looked at me her blue eyes angered and raw. "Its a pity that love doesn't leave that way. Clicking blue sway shoes grinning Cheshire smiles." Huffing she wrapped her arms around gathered knees, "Yeah, love don't live here anymore and he didn't leave in style."
343 · Sep 2015
Snapping Strings
Emily Jones Sep 2015
The hollow tinkling tipping tumble of glass on tile
Follows the path of patient feet
Ever slowly out into the open
The cracking hollow creaking of grating joints
Meets the draw tight face
Where smile lines cut like a knife into the cheeks
Rose tinted black lashed blue eyes stare blank ahead
Collapsing china made brittle by claims
To what it is,
What it should be
Say, think and feel

Like a toy shoved between two children
Stretched, banged and reused
The marionette played its silken strings for others
Danced to the same dreaded tune
Around and around that merry chortled phonic dirge  
Eating away at its own strings
Snapping like rotten wire
A puppet no longer
Ill and abused
343 · Jan 2015
Untitled
Emily Jones Jan 2015
On a pensive lake in a lonesome v a lley sat a little girl
Her tiny fingers buried in strands of silken gold
Lashed eyes sat weeping flicker the faint tint of blue
Feeling forgotten as only little girls can do
Knees bend high and laced feet at rest
How she weaped from her skirted nest
But up from hillside came a lonesome cat mewling his sorrow
Searching for his friends but found no brother no mother all is lost in the wind
But furried nose did wrinkle a little blond duck scared and wrinkled
It thought like most animals do what an ugly thing covered in so little hair
It must be lonely and in need of care
It cried amd mewled and sang its welcome song
Little duck grew startled but soon to relax
It was only kitten at last she could laugh
340 · Mar 2014
Musing
Emily Jones Mar 2014
Water falls the cascading rythm shadowing the back of my thought
As I watch the school tide flow
The lonely fountain bench becomes my muse
Where I exist outside of time
Staring into the listless movement of tree leaves
Stuck once more to the own cadence of thought
Echoing in the silent recess that has become my mood

While I cannot turn my eyes away
I am not really seeing
Not  feeling
Abstracting from reality
Pulling back away from the conscious buzzing back and forth between necessity
and possibility.
In my delirium I focus unexpectedly  
On one thing
The only thing sticking its green leaved beauty against the harsh brick facing
Tickling the crevices with its agelessness

A solid magnolia tree
Reaching for blooming glory
As if plucked out of some Georgian Southern tale
Ripe with the splendor of health
It seemed so out of place next to the young tree bushes that surrounded it
A solid reminder of lasting strength
I wondered

That should my roots become so in love with the ground they could not falter
Could I mimic this sleepy giant, whose solid trunk is gnarled with the abuse of centuries.
If I could let the wind of time and horror of burning pain pass me by?
Could I so love the sun that I reach with wide open arms to celebrate the dawning of a new day?
More over could I laugh at children as they attempt to climb my limbs, or read over the shoulder of some student who finds shade beneath my leaves.

Metaphor after metaphor meet my poets mind
I wonder about love and I wonder about time
I worry about school and take a deep breath
Deciding at once that there was nothing left
Nothing to worry nothing to cry
My emotions had run its course all in due time

And as I set waiting and thinking away I realized it was past noon
I had thought away the day
But all this time spent in my own head
I came to realize what the tree had truly said

Stop worrying
Stop thinking
And making yourself sick
Come what may
The only important thing is to persist.
Make living your goal, no fretting over something old.
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...
Emily Jones Aug 2015
Sometimes I stay out of reach
Just beyond the confines of the real world
Lost in a dreamscape
I spectate from my gilded tower
All the troubles of the 'real world'
The cold world
The less bold world
Where deception lies its bitter taste across the tounqe
And everything is usually what it seems

Wheres the adventure!
That spice of life tempered with genuine honesty!
In books
In my head
In my heart
No the 'real world' is more two dimensional than i thought
338 · Jul 2015
We are but Dust
Emily Jones Jul 2015
We are glittering dust on the face of time
Swept up and scattered
Like jewels glinting in the ether
An exhale of decades past
Burning up quicker with age
Shining brightly for a moment
A brilliance tempered in rage
336 · Dec 2017
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.
Emily Jones Aug 2015
Melting out the spinal stem
Turning liquid brain soup dripping down my back
The frayed skeleton electric nerve
Wubbs the distortion of moving things
Blending the sight of sound and tasted of color
Bleeding the mixed mingling syrups of thought and emotion
Where beating thumping noislessness of my bone jarred movment becomes second nature
Vocalizing the skidding murrmers of half finished words
Swirling back and forward towards and against reality
The numbness of my tongue the static on my brain fills, and music is the very air I breathe
335 · Apr 2014
Untitled
Emily Jones Apr 2014
Your words screech like chalk board
Where criticism falls from your mouth
Loosing my feet ,buckled ankles, crawling like a wounded animal
After you
Trying to be strong when I am weak
Your hands are supposed to catch me
Comfort, it was all I ever ask of you
But  you turn your cheek to nothing but your own centered pain

As I lay holding the tremors of my insides
Bleeding ears bearing the tulmut in waves
Choking on my own misery
Self loathing and feeling worse for haven sought

Even in this I think
Of nothing
But the comfort of your arms
While you hurt me
Abuse my heart
I dream of being held
Turn towards your apathy
Like a moth to the beauty of a flame
Hoping to find something warm
Other than
Your blatant need to neglect my love

A *******
I become
Loving like a child
Eros
With blotted wings loosing everything for love
334 · Jan 2017
Untitled
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.
Emily Jones Nov 2015
Some nights I hate you
Some nights I wish we never met
Others I lament the feelings I once had for another person
The warmth of a genuine smile
The fire of a touch
When you sparked my muse
My mind and took my breath
In the day I am resourceful I remember the good and the bad
What it means to have loved
What it means to have been tossed aside
But then that **** song comes on the radio
Inside my mind it brings nostalgia an ache from deep in my being
Staring at the screen aching over "Hello"
Hello-Adele
332 · Aug 2015
Cleansing but not clean
Emily Jones Aug 2015
Smoke rises from between cracked lips
Folding around the nose and tickles the fine hair of the cheek
Thick and creeping
Slowly up and out of the lungs
Pulling with it frustration, resistance, and stress
All of lifes worries gone with a breath
Red fingers tap tap away
Dropping the burnt ash of the day
Freedom in the form of decay
331 · Jan 2016
Storming
Emily Jones Jan 2016
Her voice crackled like wood in a fire smoke
Hot lashing  the flame of crimson tongue
Booming a thundering rage slick wet lightening bright
Only to dim
Grumble hiss and disengage
Dwindling in the presence of beauty
Within the glade.
317 · Jan 2015
Flower
Emily Jones Jan 2015
Like a flower in dew folded up from  suns warming view
The inner self lies dormant
Waiting for love to warm it
To feed the fragile flame
With all its magnificence it does grow
To feed the lonely soul
It is a ray of blinding light soft and harsh in its might
But gently not to forceful it brings
The stuborn flower preen
316 · Oct 2018
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
316 · Jan 2016
Ghost
Emily Jones Jan 2016
Could you love me now
With my inked skin, bad attitude and jaded smile
Would you finally hear my words no longer gentle, no longer weak
Do my words my words echo in your mind?
Did their sweetness finally sour?
Why else would you be looking back?
The ghost your looking for isnt here.
She died waiting
And whats left is well beyond forgiveness.
315 · Feb 2015
Tipping
Emily Jones Feb 2015
There is a point after the emotion has run its course
When hope sadness regret loss and joy have all left and your stuck with the mess
When you've read the words over and under and still arent sure what to say
Should you say
Could you say anything at all
The point in the road where all options are a risk
Like the heart has been left out of the sun so long it flinches at the thought of light
Where it only took one straw a single grain of rice to tip the balance of what feels right.
314 · Feb 2016
Is It Really Free?
Emily Jones Feb 2016
Freedom comes with its own disappointments
Trapped in the truth of exhibition
Drugged on the sublimity of an ideal
Shadowed by the lines of a cage
The bird sings gaily
Intoxicated on the ****** of the self.
313 · Jan 2015
Meditation
Emily Jones Jan 2015
Back straight reaching into the sky rooted like the tree
Arms bent,  palms open on twisted knee
Stillness and quiet
Not a sound
Listening to wind sing its lonely song
How birds add sweet music to dry air
The brushing feel of blond hair
Itis here where peace is found among the acheing soul
Counting each breath untill the numbers fade
In this moment a timeless grace
313 · Jul 2016
A Dash of Adventure
Emily Jones Jul 2016
The numbing struggle of the day to day doesn't reach me inside this gilded cage
Reason beyond the rhyme kills me with the ever expanding process of time
From here to now I speak not why
The only motive is not to lie
To the ones that I hold dear all that you get is what appears
Should you find it at fault recognize that aren't we all
We bleed the same blood from the inside
So throw away your wounded pride
Come with me instead I'll show you a new world inside your head.
308 · Jan 2017
Untitled
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.
306 · Jun 2014
Untitled
Emily Jones Jun 2014
They call me crazy and call me blind
For letting you wash back over me
When you have been one person for so long
Its hard to realize what life is like without them
And without you I was more miserable than I had ever been

Dumped like heaping garbage
Stinking up the beauty of the everyday
My love rotted
and with it so did my mind.

Instead of floating I sank
Degraded so far into myself that I discovered the depth of your infection
And how unhealthy it was
How much of the self I valued was fed into maintaining everything

And just when I begun to **** out the invasion
There you stood
On shaking knees on the rim of my secret garden
This ravaged heart in bloom
I dropped my trowel
Skirted the chasm of wilted wonder
And looked at you for all that you were
Those brown eyes screamed and strong arms shook
With that one look I knew you understood
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.
301 · Aug 2016
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,
Napping
These small things create a foundation of peace
Simplicity I never thought I'd need it this much.
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