Hello, don't hang up
I know you don't know me
But I believe I know you
I know your dreams
I know your desires
Of the darkest seduction
From a strangers voice
Of how I would use you
But strict with kindness
Punish you with lusts
Lusts yet unknown to you
Lusts to ravish your body
To please you in many ways
All the ways you dream of
Would you dare to know me?
Would you dare return my call?
Don't be afraid of the dark
All you need do is step inside
All you need do is use the phone
Dial my number, I dare you

I am something small
Never seen, always there
A reflection of another time
Wanting to feel, hear me
For I am a complication
I am someone but no one
One lost amongst the crowd
Just a drop in the ocean

I am an introspective extravert inexplicably exerting determination and ******* of normativity in my delivery. I am a Neo-narcissist, a true self-arsonist surrounded by crumbling spires of self-respect, yet I refuse to neglect my superior intellect, but my ego exemplifies my worst and testifies to my selfish intents and purposes and even worse is, my flaws. And now all I can do is pause and reflect upon what made up, makes up the mind of man in me and whether or not we are all slowing, and lazily going crazy or just me.

Forging in mind’s eye the assumption of reliable consumption of reality. Where the nativity of creativity begins condensation while receiving condemnation en masse. A shitstorm rages now, a widowmaker of incomprehensible complications to the causality of casualties of class. Discouraging color, forcing the implication of domestication of thought, wearing casual ties and carrying a briefcase, all for hope of a brief taste of success in excess. Do not assume that I can be reduced to my résumé.

~ Otto Dix Plate 22 ~

Each night I meet myself in nightmares
I am my own enemy fighting in No-man’s land
I am material and real, yet I barely exist
in my imagination.

There is nothing whole and complete
nothing has retained its shape or structure
everything is splintered into surfaces
in my imagination.

There can be only shreds and shards
only textures, hard lines and spaces
where white light can dance free
in my imagination.

Each night I crawl through ruined houses
along dark passages that close me in
dropping to bottomless depths of myself
in my imagination

There are only axons and dendrites in my mind
electric sparking, all atoms in a crystal night
a grasping hand, a gaping eye disconnected
in my imagination.

Each night I try to find myself in nightmares
I am my own enemy fighting in No-man’s land
I am dark energy and matter, yet I barely exist
in my imagination.


© M.L.Emmett

There may be a thorn
In my side, but you have such
Beautiful petals.

sometimes phrases don't make it into poems
and paragraphs are written but not part of the book.
love is just like that.
so don't you dare tell me that i can't
feel heartache over what i never had
i have the right to feel pain when she holds his hand
and feel sick when he tells me of their first kiss
and feel like it should be me even though it never was.
i have the right to love what does not love me back
and feel pain from the loss of a love i never had
just like this is not a real poem
and it won't make it into any book
but i still write it, by myself,
and it exists.


cs