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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 Jul 2015
Your words were like nicotine
I drag through my lungs
Ash in my mouth
And stick to thoughts
Flicking out the embers of doubt
Burning away my worth
Filter gone yellow with poison
Creating dependence
Sick but addicting
Emily Jones Sep 2012
Hips hunkered, rise to dapple-blue-toned dusty seat
Flush arch cheeky blush, excitement
Droll eye-glazing blue pupil toned in sleepy drug haze
Wind whipping wild air rushing through tempered glass
Wubing whoosh of wheeled blacktop pavement
Colored in eerie sunshade yellow
Lined, darting-flash gold white boundary crossing  
Tight knuckles, two hand hold
Blinking brown doe-eyed drowsy heavy lidded
Lolling head knocked back, head bash rested caressing faux blue
Ploom of dust
Dry-mouth open to catching fly’s
Or what’s left of dank-infused air
Quiet stillness

Blond hair crawling in busy wind,
Equally as gone
Thumping, jolting-momentum  
White line boundary lost, wheels ended grass
Ditching down, dirt slid slide
Floating weightless suspended-nightmare phase

Awake! Awake!
Screaming slotted terrified,
Panic! Painful-heart-wrecking rob breath
Nose dive, mounded metal drive inching closer
Hairs-breath away

Afraid, screaming ****** ****** inside sealed lips
Brown eyes; lid white
Hands upon steering slack, loose light
Asleep, peaceful in calamity
Unnatural shake and tumble
Nail dug bleeding ache
Skidding gravel, tree lined doom
A god not believed in a prayer ensued
Shaking, the calm unglued
“Baby, wake I beg you!”
Brown quick electric wide
Screaming, Screaming
“Oh my God! Why!”
Swerve snake skin peelout
Black lane orange in night
An almost death.
Midnight ride gone wrong.
Emily Jones Dec 2012
Devastation, that thrumming madness behind my eyes
Has not dwindled but kept itself in the back of my mind
You leaving has left its aching hole
The gradual upheaval in my soul

But I stand firm
Solid are my knees
Holding up my world
When everything is so bleak

With the hopes
A prayer
A silent plea
That you will arrive
Any day
Searching for me

With that smile
That swishing gate
And yes
I will watch you
Connect eye to eye
And when the fire of my love
Has fulfilled, a sated state
We will watch the sunset
And I will no longer ache.
Emily Jones Dec 2013
I have lost it
That wonder that seasons bring
The merriment of Santa hats and childish elven ears
Jack knifing into the harder edge of happy
Where humor lies in irony
And frosts numb the grinching bitter pill that is my

The sleigh bells ringing
The Christmas story pinching pennies
Across the retail maw that is a nation
I tend to feel like that man haunted by the ghosts of Christmas past
Where I felt cherished as a child does when they know they are loved
Not used like meat flesh to thwart the hungry mob of customers
Whom think me less human
For working a dead job

But even I whom spits in the face of too sweet liars
Could not help but smile
When bright eyed children
Gaze in awe
That fat red man and silver beard
This old gaffer could not help but cheer
When little girls get earrings for the first time
And boys conquer driveways with plastic tires

And even more
For I know that despite my humbug
And all my ******* jeers
He will open that door
And I like a child will stare in awe
When my love comes home for Christmas
The one thing I have wanted
Maybe I had been good after all!
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.
Emily Jones Nov 2012
It came like a sudden darkness, storming up and snuffing out the already fading light of dawn,
When I found myself floating, above the ground suspended on the backs of blue clouds that kissed the purple sky like a clinging lover
Chasing the movement of birds before my eyes I turned to stare down at the blackness beneath my toxic cloud of color, at the puke green sea covered in the orange foam of soda where what looked like the remnants of my breakfast that morning road the frothy waves.

Pepto-Bismol stained whales attacked the early air blowing bubbles filled with what looked like Oreo cream screaming happily the music of contentment
A cry a loud mewling filled the acid induced happiness of the moment, yowling agonizingly, as if possessed by the spirit of pain itself.
Thumping, Screeching clash and the ***** of nails had me blinking away from my floating tea party within the sky and looking rather questionably to the hunky dream boat pouring me a fresh glass of tea,
His smile plastered by the very gods themselves didn't waver, and in my dreamlike stupor I thought nothing of it
But the terrified yowling, hissing, strange purr-mewl didn't stop.

The sky no longer a pleasant purple faded to a nasty shade of plum conjuring two disembodied chillingly green slated eyes
Frantic with irrational fear I panicked falling off my blue cloud to plummet towards the angry green sea below
Falling, Falling ever faster staring up at the sinister glowing ambient green eyes, whilst hearing that terrifying screeching yowl, from the Cheshire maw
Slamming awake with the tingling sensation of a ghostly belly flop, I find myself still staring up at those eerie green eyes.

This time surrounded by a flowing mane of toffee fur and speckled with tan zigzagging stripes of inky black,
Buddy, with his demanding meow of attention, insistently pawing my forehead with the command of a gentle rub,
Plucking my wings, and crippling me with a cuteness that only he can have.
A silly poem about a lovable cat and what he interrupts on a daily basis.
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 Oct 2012
In my soul
Taking my breath
Thrumming in my heart

In your touch
The flitting-fondness of skin to skin
Sweat, beaded-trickle down
Salted flesh
Curly topped, flayed on satin

In your taste
The sweet tangle of tongue
Raspberried laughter

In the presence of your wit
The clever-confines of your mind
Depressed-displacement of your thought

From one being to another
Chaotic in my breast
Burning my throat
Across the distance

In the silence of contentment
With arms wrapped
Held close to the rhythm of your light
The hammering of blood

Lull of sleep
Eros, even in my dreams

Σε στιγμές σαν και αυτές που φέρνουν μου όλου του κόσμου για να γονατίσει
(In moments like these you bring my whole world to its knees.)
Eros- Greek word for passionate love, romantic love.
Sophia- Greek word for wisdom
Emily Jones Sep 2015
Anger boils like a raw egg on hot sidewalk
Charred and smoky
That type of anger that slow roast over a period of time
Often forgotten or forgiven for minor transgressions
That have made themselves known again
Much to the displeasure of annoyance
"I thought you better than that."
This what ever it is
Just gets worse when you drink
I'm not sure its a difference in incontinence, ability, or mind
But my friend you need to stop this ****
For there won't be a next time.
Emily Jones Mar 2014
Ripping paper tongued folded edges
Existing on the fringed heavily warped
Paranoia that has become my sanity
Where reality bleeds into itself like some ink spilt
On white walls leaking through cracks until there is nothing
Nothing but the sticky remnants of happy memories
Joyful music and the haunting echo of laughter

Staring back out the blank blind stare Friction
Static murmuring the fuzzy radio dial
Tuner sliding back and forth trying to connect the circuit but there is no wave length
Just the voided buzzing
The blipping of the lights behind the frame

Even your hands
Whom like a magnet seems to find the right channel
Some way to draw the breath back into the swinging classics
You bring the music back
But even you
My capitol Y
Could make the streaming black dotted fuz fade
Or the welling bend of hopeless panic
That locked inside my own hell recede

Calloused fingers in cascading waves of blonde
The touch of breath on stunted ear
Charlie Brown comfort croaking in shushed tones
Cut off
Equipment glitch like a seizure of the mind hemoraging the swelling force of tensed hands and screaming speech

Wishing to escape the madness
If I could, pray for peace
Emily Jones Sep 2015
I feel like a rare creature
Too difficult to catch
Prancing just outside of awareness
Staring at baited traps
Independent and beautiful
A rose among dandelions
With sharp wit and tact
I feel like a rare creature
From mythos and legend past
For as much attention it brings me
When no one believes I exist.
Emily Jones Jan 2014
There was something special about this space
Like the walls spoke a language
The eves telling little secrets of comfort
Making this empty space feel more like home
Than that cramped apartment

Backyard wonderland like a child
I felt like butterflies and fairies could
Jump and flitter between leaves
Or goblins hobbling
To dance magic dance
The winking of mismatched eyes
Charming me out to play

Or possibly it was the dusty smell of closets
The socks stealing gnomes
Creeping around plain sight
Stashing keys and pony tails

Something made my weirdness welcome
My childish heart
Bloomed brilliantly
As if this space had waited
Stuck on some barrier between reality
To take me back
And make this old soul
Emily Jones Sep 2012
Picketed, another generation pushing for advancement in the age of reason,
Logical, radical movement
Trying for less invasive measures of medication
To take the blinders off the prejudice of non-conformity and reach the masses
A promise to ease the pain, promote healing, the overall good
Met with violence, verbal slander, from mommies and daddies afraid of a world outside their white fence,
Fearing independence, the expansion of the mind, an openness in their youth to allow radical change.

The bloated belt bent backwards, white collar replaced by hedonistic practical libertarians in pursuit of happiness for all
Sick, disgusted with the man, the one behind the podium whom allows for this animosity on a group that did everything right, legally sound
Tired of hearing the whispers across a university, the hopeful gushing’s of elated individuals bright- eyes naive
Of a system that won’t allow something this controversial into the public, afraid to lose their hold on a potential capitol
On something that should be as easy to find in a free market as Captain Crunch, Coca-Cola, and Rice Krispy Treats.

Grinding down, fluffy-green-crystal bud
Dank yellow smoke smoldering out of pipes end, seeping out of closed lips billowing out of nostrils
Dragon fire down a throat coated with a week worth of soot, and experience
Choking, coughing, laughing away the misery
The disappointment in her fellow man to refuse to even consider the validity of a proven product
Knowing that if it was anything else a miracle drug composed of fairy dust, unicorn hair and the ***** of a thousand angels; approval would have been immediate.
Whip lash.

Flick, flame, fumigating
Baking myself into a calmer state, watching with ******* grace
Twitching with the need to take action
To control this negative reaction, to slap the of face limp **** conservatives
So consumed with themselves, blind to the pain of people who have lost hope in other forms of relief
Alternative therapy shut off by a system obsessed with its war on drugs.
In response to the Arkansas movement to get legalization of marijuana on the ballot, met with conservative group protest.
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
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
Emily Jones Jul 2016
Why is it that we seek the ephemeral, when we are so grounded in reality?
The plight of man is to suffer the walk between worlds
Knowing the reach of the atomic bond wistfully longing to embrace something beyond
With knowledge, application, and dreams
Man ultimately stays unrest
Somewhere between the heart and the chest.
Emily Jones Aug 2015
Waking in a huddled mess
Piled high the pillowed mountain fort
Canyons of comforted warmth
Burrowed in blanket mass
It still follows
No matter how tight I bundle in
Reality always finds me
Despite how much I dont want to let it in
Emily Jones Nov 2013
Liken to the sun in the middle of my universe
You reach me across the expansion
Pulling me away from the edge
The teetering tower
Shaking, creaking
Whirring back and forth

Streaming like my consciousness into the void
That the self has become
But I had let you go
Like so many others before

You fall back into your life to live
While I wander out here
Devoid of the limitations that are set out by mortality
Dieing a deathless death

With each heart beat
That echo's
Passing me by I become
Always outside of the world I so long to be apart of
A physician of the soul
To a man with many faces, and his "Wibbly Wobbly Timey Whimey" device.
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
     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

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?
Emily Jones Apr 2014
For something so independent
It's amazing how fast it caves
Craves and clings
To something
That seems so real
But just like anything else
It too can be broken
Emily Jones Apr 2016
I feel like an irisis pushing out of the ground.
Trying not to drown in the rain.
Emily Jones Feb 2015
I want reach out but words stick
Glueing to the throat so thick i choke
Cough and fail again
What do I say
What do I do
I've tried so hard to forget
But my eyes are not so blinded by love
Not so clouded with desperation
Fighting to hold on
Failing to show you what could be
If you had but let go
Stopped kicking and screaming dragging your nails across the walls
Of sanity
Def to the what I felt
What actions caused

But the truth
I'm not sure you want
To feel as I have felt
The zenith of my accumulation what I learned from the outside in
Would most likely do you no good
Would hurt you and hurt s me to feel again
For I am removed from it but lost to it

I let you into where others do not go
Not my mother
No not even the other
You know as suridly as I know you will read this
Know this
And burn as I have burned at the realization
You were there in the places that none could see
Saw the raw integrity of all that I am
And you ripped them
Tore it from the socket those fragile things of beauty
Sullied them like they were not worth the delicate wonder they had been
Shining a rainbow gossimer of good humanity the raw feirce nature of what love should be
Nieave as they were meant
Forgiving and piercing they had lament

They but flutter a sad representation
A jaded remorse they have become wishing to be the butterfly that it once was.
Emily Jones May 2016
You've made me jaded
Like stone I'm hard to move
More set in my way, less aproachable
Readily wanting a reason to leave
It takes more to hold my interest and less to make me walk
Like a zombie I can't help but pick at the brain
Munching on the fat but seeing only bones
Its as if when I buried you
I buried myself.
I hunger more but forcefully starve
Emily Jones Jul 2015
Home is where cat hair clings to clothes
The shelves smell like old books
None of the chairs match
Sunlight warms furred and floored bellies
And coffee is a drink for all hours of the day
Where a morning chatter comes from more than lips but whispered snout
A day spent reading in a shady hammock spot
Bare feet and socks that don’t always match
The place I always loose my keys
And burst into song when the whim is pleased
Up till two on an adventure strike
Sleeping till three to recharge
Tumbling and writing to feed the starving muse
Remembering to do the dishes while not really wanting too
It isn’t always perfect
And accidents happen more often than not
Perfectly Imperfect
All the best are.
Emily Jones Aug 2015
Can't I not be human
Can I not dress myself, bathe myself, feed myself
And more?
So what right do you have to treat me like a child
Who doesn't believe actions have consequence?
I'm sick of your judgement
When the only one that matters is my own
Its the 21st ******* century!
Emily Jones Nov 2012
Staring into a bowl, filled with fruited o's
I contemplate the cosmos

The world, my place in it.

And come to the conclusion that it will move on

Prosper or not prosper based on determined and undetermined factors

And even this bowl of cereal is a factor to that means

Soon I grow tired of this expansive thought

And decide what the hell

Its only cereal....
Deep thoughts after lecture, and all the ***** I gave finally caved and the cereal became enjoyable. Now if a plan crashes, strange weather patterns arise, and an important figure is killed, know that was some **** good cereal. lol
Emily Jones Aug 2015
You touched me with words
Whispered sweet lies
I lost my breath
You touched me with hands
Trailing tips of dancing fingers
Leaving behind goosed flesh
You touched me with rose colored glasses
Distortion at best
I fell hard
Cracked china and lace
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
Emily Jones Jul 2015
We are an echo of our past
Like an empty hanger in the closet
All bare and cold
Memory serves as the foundation to something beautiful
As long as those shoulders
Bare something new.
And our closet doesn’t stay empty but rather collects a rainbow of hues.
Emily Jones Jul 2015
You linger like yesterdays coffee
Staining the table
My breath and teeth
Leaking over onto my white shirt
Ruining it
For bleach isn't strong enough
Tide falls short
That faded white shirt
And despite the distortion
I still wear you to bed.
Emily Jones Aug 2015
Sun sets behind closed doors
And morning is the light behinds the curtain
Breakfast is the lunching hour
Where homework meets yesterday’s coffee cup
Still remembering the taste of hazelnut
Silence becomes a quite chaos as Sublime takes over the concentration
Smiling the one man concerts begin
And ends just in time for Netflix
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 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.
Emily Jones Jan 2013
You watch me, with that charming Cheshire smile
Corners crinkling
The dimpled pleasure of intelligent company
Holding my breath
Hearing the richness of your baritoned laughter

I am surprised with the lax
Mannerism of your movement
How the hinges no longer creak
Echoing the stillness
Of your once prone psyche

Like magic
Some fantasy
Of child like wonder I am consumed
Consumed by the elegant freedom
Of your words
As if you had never fallen so far into your self
Lost your  down the rabbit hole
Playing poker with a madman

No you have seen
And come back whole
An aged man
Monsters both vanquished and not
Inside a placid brown

How daintily you conduct your self
A bear
Not a hair out of place
Not a twitch
Not a grumble
Or complaint

As if I was porcelain
Something bound to break
You handle me
Like a crumble cake
This old school tender
This utmost gentlemanly grace
This strangeness I now have to face

No turmoil
No storm for me to brace
I fear I am the one out of place
Emily Jones Apr 2014
I might leave
I tell her crossing my arms beneath my breast
Listening to the rain speak
Washing away the yellow layer of pollen and dust
Agitating the old window panes
Scrubbing the sore throbbing anatomy of nature
Some relief from the spring season

It would be my right
I murmur hearing the quiet ****** my words into hushed darkness
By leave
I mean stay
Still wishing for what was
What is now a memory
Flickering black thumps against my feet
Sounding like footsteps rhythmic
More eyes blink in the dim light
Feeling the rubbing touch of whiskers
On nape of neck

From ultimately him
She nods flicking one black silk ear
Turning green eyes to the swaying
Leaf fingers
Tapping glass

I mean it, this time I'll show him.
Lazy paws reach out
Stretching tiny feet and jingling bell tones
Chime in the silence

What it is like to loose me
Curling feet meet cold blanket edge
Where knees press so deep into breast
That hands release, wrapping closer
Tucking socked toes next to warm
Breathing fur

You don't believe me, do you?*
Green eyes meet blue and the mewling assertion
Fills the air with conviction
She didn't believe me
She knew too well

This blonde deceiver
Lied to often
Mostly to herself
Emily Jones Feb 2016
Don't get caught on my edges
Thin and brittle
Sliding in and out of the skin with ease
Bleeding me out
Stitching me back in
Like porcelain cracked inside
Holding under the surface
The lines of despair.
Emily Jones Nov 2012
Do you want to know why I can't sleep at night?
Why every time I think of you I choke on my own breath?
Why I want to shake you, kick, and scream, untill you see this grated pain that I live with?
It is the love I have gifted to you
And it is dieing
A slow and merciless deth

Slow rotting in its own chest
The metal teeth of your lies no longer comfort it
No longer pacified the beast that hungers for more
The things you promised but stopped delivering
Blotted blue, a blood turned red as it falls
Having been starved of the nutrients that gives it vigor
The reciprocity of mutual  connection

The stale sickly bile of backed up emotions poison me
Taint me
Ready to explode
Wanting not to hurt you by showing you what you have done

What you have bottled inside me
A love that could have moved mountains like it has done before
Killing me

Brutally with each day I wake
With each expectation you no longer fulfil
With each I love you from your lips
I die, the churning clog of ash
And the unforgiving malice
Of pretty words

Waiting for you to withdrawal
Even more
As if I were some old wound left to rot
Decompose there at your doorstep
To long forever a mummified homage to the hopeless
The loveless
The ******
Emily Jones Nov 2015
Down the rabbit whole dear Alice
With all your bobs and lace
Take heed fair beauty the fruminous peril at hand
Beyond in this rational land
Dont fear sweet maiden in the world of pomp and paradox
You'll find you truely thrive
For what is living if you dont feel alive!
Where Cheshire smiles and cat call lads
Label and obtuse
You are uniquely you
Unruley hair and all
Just becareful my love on how hard you fall.
Emily Jones Aug 2015
I want to celebrate
Being alive
Running and free across darkend streets
Between the humdrums lines of conformity
Right down the path of most resisitance
I want to be wild
I want to taste the world in my mouth
Feeling its beating pulse down my throat and across my skin
To touch stars and feel their burn
Emily Jones Dec 2013
I see fire
Inside your soul
The ache of distances
Bleeding passion into movement
The wide eyed terror of not
Being there
To see you wake
To share the shaking agony of lonely
Longing to taste your breath

The night burns with the smolder
Of your love
Raw skin
Relishing the intensity of devotion
Of lost time
Shaking on the afterglow of starlight
Disolving me once more
Glazed eyed and clinging
Clenching the stuttering maddness that has possessed my heart.
Only to have you fall

Leaving you behind
The night chokes my breath
And I drown in the wake of fear

Breaking heart to the shadow of chilled sheets
****** to dream of love
To hear the tinkling laughter of memory
Where you walk
Standing in all your glory arms open
Lips cracking that ****** cocky smile
That brings me to my knees

I fall into the flame
Of resentment
I hate you
Just a little in your ability
To smite me with love
To shake me down to the echoing void
Where all I feel is the loss of you
It eats away the corner of my sanity

I can't think without the your image
Name or memory
Touching the most intimate integral parts
The bits that are hidden from the main line thought process
You infect me with love
And hang me

With my own hands on the despair of absence
Where I would do anything
Say anything
Take anything
To touch
Or be
Where you are.

You wreck me
Running headlong
Into the wall
Emily Jones Mar 2016
Its somewhere between two am coffee and little too less sleep
The feel of cold sheets rubbing the dry eyed wonder
Blinking back the frustration of the same monotony.
Where the skin feels like sand paper and the heart is daydreaming about some forest out there
Surrounded by music.
Thats where you'll find me.
Wistful and tired.
Emily Jones Jul 2015
What do I do now?
When all my obligations are over
The school bells have  rang their final tune
The cap has sailed the air flipped over
Back down into the mush
Of payments
Uncle Sam coming to collect it’s due
I want to be free to live
See those distant shores travel those far off places
And exist in the floating twilight of possibility
I am scared that my dreams will only be that...
A dream
In another life another place
With a happier me..
Emily Jones Sep 2012
It is still warm, the place where you had laid,
Still filled with the lingering blush of life and gifted with your smell,
Something that is so completely yours that sometimes if I close my eyes I can pretend you had never left,
I can pretend that for another moment you were mine.
That I didnt have to return you to the world where others also loved you,
Where there are other pieces that fit your puzzle of life,
Different kinds of love, not subtracted from your character but rather a part of who you are,
Sometimes in these moments with your scent still in the air and the room full of your presense, I become selfish for your love alone,
Almost envious of those whom get to experience you an all your greatness,
All the myrid of things that make you the beautiful person that you are.
But then when all of the envy, and selfish thoughts have run their course like all thoughts do,
I remember all the things we do,
What brought your scent to linger in a cooling bed,
What allowed your presense to fill my space,
And I no longer feel the loss of you so strong,
Because not long before, you where in my arms,
As you sure are to be again when the chill of my loneliness begins again.
An older poem, from a younger me.
Emily Jones Dec 2012
I lay here, like a fish long dead
Limp, lifeless
Gaping mouth tilted up towards the ceiling
Misted with the dew of sweat
And starting to smell

Fresh out of the pan
The vigor of my youth long
Regarded not as equal
But cannon fodder

For the masses
Infesting the grease smeared
Hub of hunger

Beta in a sea of sharks
Gilling a slow sluggish

Thank god, this bed is where I have longed to be all night long.
Emily Jones Feb 2016
Where has that classic romantic gone?
The one that writes lines of poetry on paper, on skin
The soulful sway of the heart, taking out time to separate
Away from the world
Within the world
Like the feel of music under the skin
In the veins warbling its majestic tune against the chilled goose-flesh of feeling
The heart on the sleeve
On the chest
In the mouth.

Gravity its working against me
Taking away my breath
Collapsing my wild heart under the suffocating weight
Of that ragtime dime
That jaunting beat of social feet
Pulling me against the current

To a colder tune
Something somber filled with the lonely blues.
Emily Jones Jul 2015
Its the three am wake up
The random shirt in the closet
Your lost phone cord
Spare change and pocket lint on my dresser
A book from last christmas
To make me feel like a lonely sock in the dryer
Abandoned like everything else
Emily Jones Aug 2015
Happiness is a feeling that is fleeting
Like hummingbird wings it flutters
Fast like a racing heart beat
Wasting no time to flood the system
A drug an addiction
That most spend their whole life chasing
Not realising that if they but slow down
Happiness would come racing to them.
Emily Jones Oct 2012
Something I had never thought I'd feel
Towards you
Against you
The other side of my coin

In the depth of my heart
My thoughts
Burning up the back of my throat

Echoing in my Psyche
Slighted where I never thought I could be
My friend

In the softest part
Tender, needy
Pathetically -gullible

To you who were suppose to hold me
When the world fell down
And buried me
When love faltered
And I am at my loneliest

How I had hoped
I who never believed in much
   That you were true

That you were something special
    A treasure worth keeping
Not marked up-overpriced trash
   Like the rest of the world

The part of me
For you
Miseo-Greek word for hate or act of hating
Thelo-Greek word for want or wanting, willingness
Psyche-Greek word for soul
Fides-Greek god of trust
Emily Jones Dec 2012
It's pulsing
My over crowded mind
Boiled over like meat cooked too full
Splitting an egg cracked under pressure

Skittering across the surface
Thoughts, actions
All uncertain

Too full
Too little
Too unprepared
Dear lord the **** finals are here....
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