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4.8k · Feb 2015
Chemistry of Effect
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
Atoms circulate between the nuclei of touch
Schrodinger’s laws exposing deceit and truth
Lamenting in the protons, electrons, and neutrons
Encircling the senses between the eyes and fingers

Particles flow between the elements of breathing
Of soul, of emotion, and memories worn thin
In terminal velocities of thought and contemplation
Barriers of consciousness and reality

Molecules of intentions, intricate and delicate
Bound together by ionic twists of fate
And strained into bent bonds of insecurity
Providing violent reactions of regrets

Ions, formed in this union, complicate the formula
Indifferent to the imbalance between the sighs
Requiring the impact, to leave a free electron of motive
Resulting in a positive change of heart and mind

© 2014
2.2k · Feb 2015
An End: Memory Loss
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
And I’ve erred to try loving you
As I’ve dreamt of gazing upon your moons
For the smiles of your suns
Burn intensely through my intentions
Even in your shadows
Where my honesty becomes bitter
Within your cruel eyes
I’m blinded by a solemn light
Merely to follow afterimages, faint and frail
Leading to estranged pastures
Of masked sins basking in the meadows
Only a deceitful tranquility
As on these bladed dreams do I bleed in peace
Feeding my lustful hope
Of a fruitless love into the soil beneath me
Growing nothings short of
Forget-me-nots in a memory-less heart

© 2014
2.2k · Feb 2015
A Proposal
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
A proposal I lay before you and with an earnest smile
I propose to you (yes you, my dear)
That you spend three days in my care
For three days will be enough for you
To decide your time with me

The first day will be bliss unending
For you have only known me for a few months
As we unravel a masterpiece of cherished things
Bathed in sweetness you’ve only dreamed
We shall tour the world (online)
We shall eat culinary wonders (from some store around the corner)
Straight out of my fancy china and silverware, no less
The luxury of life will hide nothing from us
And at night, I will caress your every pain (and pleasure, if I may be so bold)
Put my (newly acquired) masseuse skills to the test
And ease your worries until you drift to sleep (or agony)
All in my warm and loving (-ly sore) arms
(until they start to lose their feeling, in which I will promptly wake you)  

The second day will be a casual life
In which you will have known me for a decade
You will be comfortable in my pajamas’ warmth
(Let’s be honest, you look better in them anyway)
We will share a cup of sweet tea, direct from my lips to yours
(after it’s cooled, of course, scolded tongues make no romance)
Lay on the couch for hours as we talk about nothing (because nothing is on)
And when we can rest no more, we will wander the outside world
To rediscover the things we knew all over again, holding hands
After we’ve made our findings, we’ll return to the comforts of our walls
I will prepare a meal (that I’ve frozen) from the best recipe site I can find
Then we will sit in front of the tube again like couch potatoes
And watch a movie, cuddled together until we fall asleep on each other
(Popcorn, blankets, drinks, the works- all within reach, my dear)

The third day will test you and your limits
As we have been together for a half-century, a year, and then some
The days have taken their toll as our bodies fluctuate more
Our contact brief as we become recluses even to ourselves
And even the days in which you renew your love become woeful
A trivial, typical, and tiresome feat, if I could muster more effort
But I am now a former shell of the one you’ve met long ago
Tempting you to flee for another, younger fling to test time by
And if you go to chase the dreams and aspirations I held you back from
I will wait, composed as I decompose, ever slowly with nothing more
But my ring, my pride, and my heart containing with nothing but you
(and the tubes from the pacemaker, but if Iron Man could do it…)

So I ask you this once my dear (maybe twice if you didn’t hear me the first time)
Will you take me up on my proposal or shall I sleep forever knowing
That I could never obtain someone so precious to me in this lifetime?

© 2014
Neal Emanuelson Apr 2015
Oh hail toothbrush, haven’t seen you since last night
I’ve returned again to cleanse an overbite
Spread the paste thick and minty across your bristled skin
Over the lips and on the culprits, 007 of oral hygiene going in

****, it feels good-

Morning scrubs do away with yesterday’s store appetizer samples
Clinging and eroding the ceramic protection of my enamels
Its poor thin concealing of my porcelain I must protect
Just a little more push and pull- haven’t even eaten breakfast yet
Foaming at the mouth, rabid plague of plaque I’m getting rid of
What extra harm for today’s meals I should have considered

But it’s alright-

My dentist smiles and offers a primary root canal adjustment
But the filling he’s drilling in won’t do too much for my budget
One hand to my jaw could cause my little car to swerve
Unbearable agony from the glass casing encasing that vital nerve

One hole’s enough for today-

Make it home, disgusted jaw line of cotton by the mirror
Spit soaked clouds are temporary relief for bearer
Grab the blender, toss it up, eggs and bacon with my juice
It’s no use- my straw’s stuck with gunk and nothing’s coming loose.

But what about this canker sore?

© 2008
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
It was a night of music softly playing, listlessly upon the bed I was laying,
Lying awake with toss and turns without subtle hints of a snore…
And whilst this time my eyes did wander, avoiding the lids they should be under,
Suddenly as I was under, under the spell of consciousness I could not ignore…
“No, this cannot be,” I whispered, “this insomnia I cannot ignore;
Awake I lied, sleeping never more.

The clock soon read the 30th minute of two, and it was now that I knew
As I stares bleakly to the scuffled patterns of my feet on the carpet floor,
I tried to rise up from bed in hopes to gain; fatigue made that attempt in vain.
My eyes wrought forth tears from burning pain, the nightly air made them sore…
The darkness of the night air now silent but dry has left them burning sore,
Craving the sleep that comes never more.

My blanket held the rustling of my body so violently tussling
In anger—such anger that the blanket had suddenly tore;
And so now I laid there, with fluff of stuffing my blanket was ‘bleeding’,
“I fear that this must be the sleep I’ll crave, yet ignore,
For it seems odd this craving my body would so deviously ignore."
Still awake I lied, craving sleep ever more.

Restless I turned to my side, when then my eyes grew joyously wide,
“I had forgotten,” said I. “Cure for restless sleep, this bottle does implore";
Unfortunately, I took some previously- the limit to such an aid is a pity,
And the clock had struck three, three hours I am forced to ignore,
"Oh, the sleep that I needed…” I mourned softly on the time I had to ignore.
“I want sleep and nothing more!”

All the time I laid staring, the darkness faded, the sun now glaring;
Forcing a retreat of the darkness covering the scuffled patterns on the carpet floor.
A dawn’s glow shined with brilliance, against my eyes so red and resilient,
The sleep, once again a night of rest I craved for my body, so weary and sore,
For the sake of my eyesight now the sun’s gleam had made ever so sore
“Sigh, ‘tis another fortnight I sleep never more.”

© 2011
Neal Emanuelson Oct 2015
With fierce eyes turned towards the dawn
A tightly balled fist rose to the heavens
Parting smiles, carbon particles, and atoms
Collided and separated

And in the split of an atom second
The world caved into her mouth
Diffused with saliva-like opinions
And spit into the ocean fusion

A tear of wish amongst the sea foam rocks
Dashed by the sharp pangs of truth
Cutting deeper into her gaze
I fell out of expectation

Without a breath of hope under the torrent
Faltering a rescue of a retracted hand
Mirrored to the sky and sea
A lover gone to a memory

© 2015 Neal Emanuelson
1.5k · Feb 2015
Love Function
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
Love Function

Love function.m
------------------------------------------------------­----
function ***= hopeful (pain, pleasure)
% ***                        A romp through the meadows below
%                               perceived as a token invitation to
%                               the gates of heaven and hell back, enjoyed.

***.plans=...
['kiss', 'touch', 'play';
'hug', '*****', 'nookie'];
duration= 45.00;
awk.silence= 480.00pleasure;
rest= 0:1/pain: duration;

love = [ ];

for i= 7:length(pain)
pain = pleasure (u);
if (pleasure= 'kiss' && pain= 'touch' &&  pleasure= 'play' && pain= ''*****' && pleasure= 'hug' &&  pleasure= nookie')
         %checks for comfort
         continue
    end;
    [ii,uu] = find(pain==pleasure);
    moan = cos(2
pipain(ii,uu)duration) + cos(2pipleasure(ii,uu)awk.silence);

love = [love, hate(2,awk.silence), callback]

end;

maybe(yes,no);
relationship(love);
For the geek/nerd in all of us... (no, it doesn't run properly, the variables are incomplete, like love supposed to be).
1.5k · Oct 2015
Someone Better (An Excuse)
Neal Emanuelson Oct 2015
Here now
the pain of love’s bitter reality… surrounds me
But how
can they be better if love always leaves…
every time? (Lost in a fevered dream)
Every time.

But if we lie now, will we make it?
If it hurts, surely I can take it…
Is this really what we both need?

Is someone better who you’re dying to see
or is someone better who you’re trying to be?

Love, now
You’ve poisoned everything in my reprieve…
with insecurities
And now
You’ve returned with doubts, undoubtedly…
You’d love me (was it an opportunity?)
To hate me.

Is there someone better that you’re dying to meet
or are you waiting for someone better than me?
Will I be a better someone for setting you free
or am I someone better that I can’t see?

Someone better… (for the love that you need)
Someone better… (for the love that I seek)

Time and time again, you push me to the brink
To abandon ship and swim before we sink
But these thoughts don’t fade away when I sleep

Isn’t someone better who you’re supposed to be?

Because you were the one fall in love with me

The future is no surprise if you can predictably
say ‘someone better’ is someone I’m gonna meet?
Cause I’m sure as hell that someone better isn’t someone I need
If someone better is who you’re supposed to be.

Is someone better God has yet to create?
Because someone better always seems to escape
“Someone better” - an excuse to abandon and break
When you won’t accept your love’s been a mistake.

© 2015 Neal Emanuelson
1.4k · Mar 2015
And Then He Will Go
Neal Emanuelson Mar 2015
Over the river and lost in the woods
Made of fun-house mirrors built directly into ventricles
Of one heart beating through an overdose of chemicals
Thoughts drowned in the peptides of shores in the ‘waiting room’

Bygone feeling splashing all around for a lifeguard living with his guard down
His days went from providing his scarf to providing his hearth
To days in and out of compromising his mirth

He’s told “It gets better as it goes.”
He says, “It’ll be dead by tomorrow.”
They say “Come on now, life isn't filled with sorrow…”

And apparently, the dissonance is covered by a distance of another;
He’s a folly to the blood-and-water chapter
Speaking of mixing soluble matters…
The truth will often leave a bitter taste
But are the lies dissolved in accepting change?
Sometimes the words and visuals just aren't the same.

So today, he took three things out of his heart and mind
Left social phobia, some truth, but mostly lies behind
He will be the allergy to compassion and all that’s empathic
He will suffer; he will grieve; he will be pathetic
And then he will just go.

She was running through his mirrors, waiting for bandages and gauze
He was privy to the scene as his mirrors stayed intact without a flaw
Watching himself scar up the reflective measures; making transparent views of pleasure
Until one broke; exposing a familiar scene of brick, last place he etched his soul forever
And in ambition to recover, stopped her in the moment that marks a desire to discover
But he failed in ways most intricate
Wrapped by the sharpest lines of the most delicate
Sinew that warped the core of something the void could use to replace truth that were self-evident -

But… no.
He’s digressing from the path
There was no particular reason to even do the math
The numbers didn't add up to what he had previously squandered
She was fresh to a life that she may never have encountered
With him; it was just vying for affection through a virulent infection
And it was a part of her that stepped in that day, a partial fit to the display
Fresh paint on the decay

So today, he took three things out of his heart and mind
Left insecurity, rationality, and his future behind
He became a monster to dishonor and a liar to himself
He’s disgraced; he is inane; he is unwell
And then he will just go.

He has been completely unable to dissect himself and put back the pieces without a coming up short a third-party to my misery
He has been completely distrusting of those whose lives have never felt equal pain overflowing from his tragedies
He has been routinely maintaining dispositions that contradict on every semblance of a trusting word in my vicinity
He has been completely dishonest about my conditions as if they were just failed attempts at analyzing strategies

I have been the juxtaposition to every single saintly word as he chose isolation prone to my own forms of devilry
I have been the very epitome of a mask that cries behind every nonchalant smile displayed like a centerpiece
I have been an undependable source of confidence ever since he broke skin through my poetic farce of empathy
I have been completely unreceptive of every word a kind voice has ever come to lend selflessly

And he has been a ******* child without remorse and word to those that have ever cherished me

So today, I took three things out of my heart and mind
Left the hate, the damage, and instability behind
I will become a martyr that defends nothing to prove
I will be unable; I will fail; I will lose.
And then I will go.

© 2015 Neal Emanuelson
1.4k · Feb 2015
Damage (Relapse)
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
And then there's the blood
But I can't feel my own skin
A knife in the hands of volatility
The sight of my own, estranged
Losing a handle on reality
Although it was never all that firm
I’ve lost the meaning in morality
As well as the meaning in this mortal boundary
Was the knife in my hands cause I'm shaking
In the mirror I stare, my vision is fading
Is it the end again?

The tiles are stained so deep in my masochism
A fitting match to this porcelain heart
The broken lines that I've utter may reflect
the lines that I have etched on myself
Cutting away the innocence or whatever was left
The damage is forever unending
Slipping in the broken pieces and bleeding
In the hours I’ve screamed through the pain awakened
Through the red, white, and black I’m escaping
In remembrance of what I’ve forgotten
Regrets that have could never be amended
Is it the end again?
[Alt3]
1.2k · Apr 2015
Her Doorway
Neal Emanuelson Apr 2015
Her doorway holds the way between
His hand and the heart he spilled
About faith
Lean against the walls in time
All in wait for her reply
Something meaningful to help return the hurt
They speak about the their world in turns
Sudden break within the boundary
Of the levees of her closed and drying tears
Opens the doorway
With brighter eyes; Return

The time slows by
And earth shall not cease to turn

Against the wall
Light shadows mood
In lieu of promises no one sure to keep
He’s not a liar, so he thought
He holds on painfully a bit too tight
She’s crushed within a comforted grip
Her eyes no longer separate between the lives
Seen reasonable or rational
To believe his words today
And the coming days with smile and a tear

The time slows by
And earth shall not cease to turn
Spinning silently when nothing’s right
Leaving hesitantly when nothing’s wrong

The doorway holds two worlds between
Closed eyes and the shudders of their dreams
Memories in reverse repetition, slowed

© 2008
1.0k · Feb 2015
Spoon of Love
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
Dash of lust in a cup
And poured from a passionate heat
Brew a romance, soaked in time

Stirred with a spoon of love
Double tap the edge of caution
Dripping drops of sensual ripples

Steam dances into the air
Caressing the surface and disappearing
As the taste hits the tongue

Urges cease on the taste-buds
Cuddling the heat and piquancy
Affectionately warming a soul within

My tea is done.

© 2014
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
White chocolate suicide
This drizzle’s ****** ***
Hard whipped, it tantalizes
Steals air from her lungs

Five scoops of velvet flesh
Slight hint of cherries, bruised
This pleasure grows amidst
Flushed cheeks so rosy hued

Toss in a little cyan-dye
Sweet taste of passion blue
If dessert could ****, she’d die
To savor something new

It’s time to take a bite
Before it melts away
Might just take all night
It’s kidnapped her days

Searing as it warms her thighs
Wintry as it chills her bones
Soft-shell too hard to hide
Each taste’s a lustful moan

What’s better than her sweets
Covered in delightful gems?
Unparalleled this frozen treat
Even to her thoughts of him

© 2014
962 · Feb 2015
For Lack of Better Judgment
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
The peace had lasted quite some time in
The shallow corners of my tiny mind was
Utter silence of the oddest tune.

Did I crave your voice to ruin the
Tranquilities which were pursuant since
You left me for nothing less than fine?

How I could wish for a great calamity
Of wind and fire, of earth and sea to
Upset this lonely fate of mine.

And yet here you stand again with
An open hand, slyly hiding a grin on
That unmistakable face of yours.

But just where have you gone- better yet
Where have you been?
What exactly have you done- and just how
Many of them are sins?

In an amiable attempt to reconcile, I saw
You relent and caught a smile when you
Offered your hand in an earnest jest

I questioned you and this sudden change
The pieces laid out as if a game was played
And they were all in your favor.

You’ve been so fond of clever tricks and tease
And I felt implored to take my leave of
Your haughty presence at once

But despite the awful things I’ve learned of you
Somehow my thought keep drifting to the
Wishful corners you occupy in my mind

Who were you now- better yet,
Who have you been?
Why exactly did you return?
And why do I keep letting you in?

And in my quivering hands were yours entwined in mine
And despite all that I’ve said, I chose you every time
And every time that you leave because I’ve said goodbye
You come back again, to stand in front of my own eyes.

For lack of better judgment, and lack of better taste
I’ve come to accept this fiendish look upon the face


Of myself in this mirror.

© 2014
878 · Apr 2015
Expose the Earth
Neal Emanuelson Apr 2015
Complacencies beneath the burning leaves
Warranted by the rise and shine
The world turns without disturbing dirt
Sedated like a dream in constant suspension

Well the sunlight revealed some truth
Hidden in grass beneath the meadow
But the forest kept its peace with guard
By the trees relentless shadows

Maybe it’ll come down.

The sun is bullying its turf
The earth no longer fears its shine
The sun will reveal the earth
The earth will be exposed in time

Well, innocence comes in early months
And changes truth through summer visions
But when the cold comes slowly in
The sun has forgotten its decision

Maybe it’ll come down.

© 2008
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
A soul left in darkness' wake can yet again be freed
For there's always a crown hidden behind the color of fire
And this fire can always warm a heart so cold
And yet smirks on burning time's tested and tempted dreams
To provide a sweet, yet bitter taste of love's own mercy

A gracious fall is love, the last denominator always is pain
And the pain is often greater than the love itself
At its shores there is hope, then the full and blue moons, light and bright sparks in stars
And within this hope, lie the wishes and dreams of the fallen few
Dormant as the saffron in the rocks, hushed as the silence in the glaciers

For a sinner's love is his love to sin
For a saint, it's the best sermon that life's seen
The rose slowly chokes under the gaze of discontent
Charming as a black rose, a woeful soul now begins
Entwining into the lovelorn chains of thorns, white lilies altered to red


Now as a feather falls to crush a heart
A speck of sand ending this meteoric blast
With the soul now resting in the darkness once again
The rose breathes a silent whisper and disappears into the air
Molding to be the enigma a lover beholds

The kaleidoscopic perfection of the faucets in life
To contradict the evils that is ever present in our hearts

© 2005
839 · Feb 2015
Black Foot Angel
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
I am a black foot angel, wingless and forgotten,
tasting immortal memories with stronger passion.
I will grab this bottle and toss eons of romance away
because the angel I loved broke my dark sky heart.

I sit underwater with the trees that sway upside down,
taking breaths of nitrogen mixed in with my tears.
All rocks unturned in the current that is never quenched,
darkened skin from the lava I bathe to heat my tranquility.

Cooled down in the rainforests that hide my dreams,
underneath the diseased soil for my incompetence.
I irrigate the lands I’ve sown in my lust to grow another day,
yet no fruition from my most fertile feelings from drought.

I follow the clouds that flood my misery in these valleys
and cry with the sun as it descends the haven of eyes,
speak with the moon that tells of lone lit stars and lovers
just to wait until it lullabies a quiet lunar night once more.

For the angels I knew that burst open my aerated wounds,
to caress the worry of mortal lives given to all sinners,
uneasy paths that fly upward as the rivers I sent unto my coasts
disgraced when I nail my hopeless love to the omnipotent cross.

Now I gently slip away into the kempt trunks of friends hidden,
an incredible place of secrecy and all-knowing substance,
only to leave again into the horizon that cuts me whole
from the pictures meant to make us all suffer internally.

I rest in the cradle of reality, born on a vine of trust,
this gracious corridor inside me is laden with unfamiliar doors.
My hope sparkles falsely under apprehension, which ruined the walls,
I point the finger, but can only blame the lost fool I see in my mirror.

I ponder my possibilities for flying back into that angel’s heart,
since I lay here in my bed, comatose to my clockwork feelings,
A newborn to a lovelorn life has grown feeble in understanding.
I await inanimate, inside as I cast my vessel into a new dedication of failure.

© 2004
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
And in the shallows of time she laid
Fated on the unclear ripples of uncertainty
Yet seeing through the mists and murky depths
Made claim her life is finite and impact undefined
She floated amongst dreams without fear and obstacles
And loved all with strong words aside from her own
As fate would recall her, she was naught an angel
But shone brilliance onto the water’s surface
Was naught a demon bearing ill nature
But tempted good fate with every word
Her life, lived; her bounds, boundless
And every moment in stride without fear

For her memory, I honor her my words in heart
And live to breathe another day amongst the scattered leaves
Only admiring her fiery strength and determination abound
I could only wish her a final farewell, delayed, but earnest
To see her off to the rivers and seas beyond her shallows

In loving memory Ina, always.

© 2014
776 · Jul 2024
Phantom Pain
Neal Emanuelson Jul 2024
What a strong grip that you've managed to keep so long
How does it still feel in this moment?
Realize now that the grip was too strong
It's gone too numb to feel if it still constricts
Emboldened by the lies that cross the threshold of those lips

You get what I give and I give you what I deserved
You reap what I sow, but I know what you think I don't
Believe me, you know you've deceived me

You seem baffled as I start to roam away from your reach
Wondering where went the chain you've anchored
What of the lessons you've attempted to teach
To keep me guilted, controlled and manipulated
So you can seek all you want from the others you've lied to

You take what I give but I get what you deserved
I've reaped what you sow and you know that I don't
Believe you, I know you've deceived me

So come clean to me
Bare all your guilt
Set me free
You've already abandoned me

Still you don't resist
To continue so disrespectfully
You keep your secrets disappearing
So what is it that you still want from me?

So come clean to me (come clean, come clean)
Bare all your guilt (what you hide from me)
Set me free (your cage no longer fits)
You've already abandoned me

So why should I stay by you?

©July 2024 Neal Emanuelson
752 · Mar 2015
Mask of Lies (Relapse)
Neal Emanuelson Mar 2015
Of the silence in this mind
Life once taken isn’t sacred
Staring at a mirror with one’s self, half-naked
After learning to accept the pain, there’s was nothing to escape it
One could make it better than fate ever did  

Can’t understand what one was doing; just escaping
Jailing one’s self with their own personal hate and
Hiding away from the mental wardens that one stayed with
Discarding one’s self to remember that one had a very hand in
The destruction to the very world one was contained within

One believed it’s right, so the argument is always “*******-
go fix your life before you act like you’re a **** God.”
It’s a long way from accepting all the blade does
But it never fails and the lines eventually fade off

Could be a saint and come to one’s defense
Or shut the **** up and watch from the ******* fence
Worn this mask so long, one tends to forget to fake it
Disillusioned to one’s self and all the things that make it

More lines to breathe across the skin appear soon
A novella of pain with no words to read through
Handling a smile like accessory to hide instability
Always showing through, but truly just a shell of ‘me’
Despite the calm you see
Through laughs and jeers
One still feels lost and uncontrolled
Everything warm when one’s heart turned cold

No chance to correct it, just craving an exit
Took the knife last night, now the demons are rested
Took the chance last night, now dried and decrepit
Relapsed again tonight, and one’s mind is repressive
Wrote about a horrid time, and now it’s all depressive

Happy stars and pussycats, unicorns and other ****.

©2015 Neal Emanuelson
720 · Feb 2015
The Bridge
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
She sat by the creek underneath the bridge, flicking nearby pebbles and watching them roll into the water. It wasn't so quiet for her with the crickets and the water flowing, but between them both there was world of silence. And that’s what took her breath away- did he really ask her to be here? Right now, at this time, at this exact moment? She could only contemplate what his reason was, but she had hope it was for all the reasons she wanted.
He stood shy of the nearest light post, hidden in darkness save the faint outline of his profile. He wasn't so surprised at being there, but he was surprised that she was there. He could already feel the tenseness surrounding her, enveloping her like quicksand, and he didn't know whether to save her from it or just let her sink alone. He wasn't even sure why she was here, not to mention why he came at all on such short notice. Such an important matter that couldn't be discussed over the phone… right, as if that was really so believable.
Plink
Another pebble scampered down the uneven ***** and fell to its watery doom in the water. It must've been the seventh or so pebble send to rock hell- he should know, he’d had been counting in silence… well, silently. Tired of the quiet (and standing), he sighed deeply as he summed up his resolve to approach her. Almost without a word, he could feel her concentrated sight on him, watching every step that he made until he came into view. Sitting down next to her, he picked up a pebble and rolled it between his fingers, shortly tossing it in the water. A successful end to the peace, he thought to himself.
Plink
They came out here at the request of both of their friends… a clever ruse to get them to see each other without letting they know the reason behind it. Ah, those clever friends, waiting to hear the juicy details of exactly what happened at the bridge this night. Well, it wouldn't be much if this was how it was going to be. Either way, those friends would be meeting their early demise as soon as these two could escape the gravitational pull of embarrassment they had locked their orbit around.
They sat, fidgeting about for a few minutes, tossing more pebbles into the creek. No eye contact, just enough movement to grab a pebble and flick a finger forward. Minutes would have felt like an hour to any spectator, boring them to sleep… until an accidental movement from both parties.
Quick reflexes and **** reactions initiated themselves involuntarily. This wasn't an accidental meeting anymore- it was a strategic battle between two parties ready for an all-out lust war. The intense energy of the stares between them was near atomically ******- the passionate force behind it plowing itself into the massive platform of icy silence they fought upon.
He steadied his gaze on her, eyes fixated on her cheeks flushing red in the low light as her eyes met with his. She wasn't in control anymore; her eyes darted from his eyes to his lips and back again, heat rising from her chest like magma under pressure. He felt his nervousness fade into something else… something more carnal and more focused on her touch and scent. Almost as if directed by primal instincts, his eyes turned to her lips… plump, pink, and glowing- as if coated with kerosene and lit on fire.
It was the jump off of the cliff, the trains on a collision course, the launch of the torpedoes, the moment the President of Hearts had smashed the glass cover that encased the launch button for the **** Day missile and the coordinates were set for that very bridge out of all the bridges in the world.
And within that moment of hesitation, it was all over. His hand slipped on some loose gravel and he ended up falling forward, head-butting her on the forehead. The two reeled back in pain for a few minutes, until they started to giggle to themselves. And that giggle grew into a loud chuckle and evolved into a ferocious uproar between them. As they calmed down and wiped away the tears of laughter, a flashlight was suddenly shown on them.
“Hey, what are you two doing down there? Get out from there now,” the police officer said with a stern voice.
They followed his command and came up to meet the officer, apologizing profusely as if they just went full-on Bonnie & Clyde. The officer just smiled and gestured for them to calm down.
“You’re not in any trouble; it’s just dangerous to be out here so late. So just take your girlfriend home and make sure her parents aren't worried, alright?”
“…. b-but she’s-… yes, sir,” he said, stopping himself from continuing. “I’ll take my girlfriend home right now.
She blushed even more as she felt the warm grip of his hand pulling her softly forward and squeezed back gently. She followed him as he walked, even though their homes were in the other direction.
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
Little leaves of what little see,
Underneath this tree is little me.
Grown in wants of what I little need.
Pillaged of my seeds till little is left of me.

Little seeds pillaged of what little is left of me.
Grown in the little wants of what I need.
Underneath little me is this tree.
Little see of what is past the little leaves.

Of little me, hanging from underneath the tree.

© 2009
702 · Dec 2015
Ironies and Contradictions
Neal Emanuelson Dec 2015
Somehow this moment repeats indefinitely
The very point in which you heavily defend
The same four words that you say incessantly
An oxymoron that I’ve heard time and time again
But if I agree, then I’m the only one that’s wrong
And if I disagree, it’s “the ending that I’ve wanted all along”

Am I waiting for the same old fight again?
You’ve poked these holes in my heart with safety pins
Expect me to soak my battle wounds in juice ‘n’ gin
When it’s all over, I don’t need another ‘friend’
And when you go, surely I will let you be
But don’t expect to find ‘us’ alive in a future fantasy

Because I am waiting for you to finally be clear
And I am waiting for the last words that I’ll want to hear
Planned your routine until the cycle breaks down
If you were alone, then why was I always around?
And if I never truly cared right from the start
Could you honestly say you’d make it this far?
If you’ve done it all on your own with no one’s help
Maybe you should be fine to continue by yourself.

Somehow you’re always coming back to this
And I fill in the parts where irrationality would miss
Painted my story black and white and red so you could see
That there’s nothing between the lines you couldn’t read.
An alternative to another poem not posted here.
688 · Feb 2015
Unlovable at Best
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
Freedom is the woman that doesn’t know I love her
As I watch her from the distance of passing heartbeats
It’s a strange affection that I long to grasp
My touch upon her skin and lips joined
It is a folly of a romance in thought and truth

Captivity is the young lady that knows our love is gone
Denying the truth from a vacant window
She eyes and tries and pries into my life
Looking to gain back what kept me from her
It is simply that which lead me to stray

Betwixt, I find Solace- the mistress that is unaware
Out meetings are coincidental at best
She gives me the same comfort as she does all the others
But Solace could never be my lover.

So I remain unlovable at best.

© 2014
679 · Feb 2015
Faulty Saviors (Alt. 1)
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
You've found yourself in the mirror
In the eyes that won't betrayed
If I let you bleed, will you suffer the same?

In the smile that was hopeless
In the sorrow that no one sees
If I let you breathe, you will suffer the same.

The constant state of being
What you are and are not supposed to be
These are memories in the truths of the lies

Too beguiled, alone, and afraid
To see that you actually are me
And we’ve done everything to end us tonight

With the hand you've called for me
And without voice, you summon the rest
"If we will let you bleed, we'll suffer the same."

But you've marked yourself indifferent
Yet we're the ones to shoulder blame
"But we let you bleed so you won't suffer the same."

The nine souls misled from deception
Will be your fears and mistakes
We live in the chambers of your shattered mind

And in the nights that you will see us
You will no longer be afraid
Because we are the same in body, soul, and mind

© 2014
677 · Feb 2015
Another (Relapse)
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
Every little drop has come from pain
Dripping regrets down on the walls
Wrote apologies on the bathroom sink
And hid the mess in lines of words.

Every little line is a memory
Perfect permanence within a scar
Each parallel, each a missing piece
of reasons from which they came.

These words are nothing short of empathy
There's always truth in the eyes of the hurt
The message has been dried and wiped away
Yet there's a crude carving on the temple forever.

© 2014
675 · Feb 2015
Border of Imperfection
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
Is the poisoning of hearts
Really the death of love?
Misshapen thoughts of assumptions
Claim tragedy within pure laughter.
Apologies wither as the forgotten &
Irreversible damage has been dealt.

Reveries of vicissitudes that scar
Hands that bleed endlessly.
It is not the cuts of silvered slashes
That can make some bleed on the inside.
Forgive me not, a sinner of all days, but
Do not fall into the abyss, fall into my arms.

Pain ceases as you draw close,
Wrapped within the flames of desire.
But a new pain begins, will it continue
To harm us or diminish with a cherry kiss?
Fail safe conclusion, hearted confessions
Unbeknownst to life but to lover's eye.

Forget-me-nots of white roses painted
Crimson by carved, etched hands.
Fear not the words I speak for they
Are never the end of my being.
They are the words of a forgotten moment
Tossed into the sea with anguished rain.

© 2004
667 · Oct 2015
Outer (Inner Heart)
Neal Emanuelson Oct 2015
The outer heart is dense
Made for nothing but defense
But every now and then, something pierces
But when it’s repairing the damage done
What of that which overcomes
It is constantly breaking through, creating lesions
So little the reparations mend
What little alive left to tend
When the tissue is dead and sordidly forgotten
Death will come from all that it's abandoned
Heartbeats constant yet instable
Will bring anyone down to their knees
Heartbeats that become unable
To liberate, only condemned to defeat
The outer heart shall rot and expose
What once was too precious to behold
Is now fighting until its last breath
Ill-prepared and defenseless still
Oft fueled by only pure will
Through all the abuse that the inner heart will suffer
None worse than sabotage by the love of another
Heartbeats lapsed, confused and fleeting
Destroyed after all it had found
Heartbeats faint, profuse bleeding
Drowning in pools on the ground

© 2015 Neal Emanuelson
647 · Oct 2015
The Choice I've Made
Neal Emanuelson Oct 2015
I've swallowed whole my humble pie
For years now without remorse
I was content to leave it all as such
And let all things take its 'natural' course
But then I learned I could take a pen
And weave words around a rhythmic display
If it wasn't for that fateful chance
I wouldn't be half the man I am today

Because when I get sad, I close the door
And I cry
But when I get sad and think of these words
I get by

These words are my reconciliation
To a life in which I can relate
But I feel so shameful
When I chose mine
Because I chose mine

For years to come, I would covet this
A final poem, a final prose
And in the hours that past me by
I never seem to write any of those
These words I love to put to the test
As if tried and true never failed
And in my path comes consequence
of the catered streams where they wade
I've used them up, I've brought them down
On many, oft without mercy or delay
Without them, I'd never get this far
I'd never tell you in this way

But when I get here and close the door
I can get by
But when I'm alone with these words
I still cry

These words are my appreciation
Something I can dedicate
But it’s often so painful
When I chose mine
Because I chose mine

©2015 Neal Emanuelson
640 · Feb 2015
Responsible Suicide
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
This hushed wind brings about a smaller piece of perpetual silence
Swayed by the similarities of tree leaves and people
Life ahead of a dawn regarded to wake nonentities
Reminded not of the deafening undertones inside a mind
Forlorn versifier levy the elegiac deterioration
A trepanation of dreary memoirs too sore
to cull a pain so congenial.

Life seems a responsible suicide.

© 2012
636 · Feb 2015
These Kinds of People
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
It is these kinds of people
That take and consume
Out of kindness and sincerity

It’s our kind of people
That allow this to continue
Taken for granted and abused

It’s her kind of people
That are stereotyped and misjudged
Slurred by prejudice and sexism

It is his kind of people
Blinded by forced upon masculinity
To be a man by fist and violence

It is my kind of people
That takes to silence and words
To create a voice powerful and raw

It is your kind of people
To take heed of importance and morals
And right that which has wronged for centuries

These kinds of our kind of her kind and
His kind of my kind of your kind.
All in all will fall in kind until we all fall kind in kind.

© 2014
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
Immorally, my lustful gaze eyes in a false bid to need you
Unappeased from the respites of my attempts to dream you
And in my efforts, I’ve still yet to ascertain my conviction to find you
But until then, an entire sense devoted to imagination to taste you
However, taste is a mean fraction of my malicious, intent to use you
And in a blinded craving, good intentions eluded, will involuntarily scar you
In a perverted aim to behold and savor you, to protect, enjoy and *******
Is the beginning of my undoing, as I callously sin again and again, and break you

And then with no further defense but to erase you,
and politely in my heart, I move bitterly to bury you,
I return fruitlessly to the beginning again, to need you.

© 2014
619 · Feb 2015
Window Seat
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
What is left of the window smudge
when the lips that yearn kiss against
a bitter reflection of what isn't real?

It's a solemn wish towards that hope,
for one faithless day the eyes will play,
play trickery into the hearts of one crowd
but pierce but one heart in an earnest gavotte.

"Will you see me today?"

"I will see you again, someday."


And there was the glimpse of what is not,
the aura of self-release into those eyes
but betrayed and hollowed, no one loves more.

The copious crowd dispersed, save one soul-
Waiting effortlessly in the seconds that
none could cherish more than their own.

"You see me today."

"I saw you, someday."


© 2007
604 · Feb 2015
Her Creation, Her Sacrifice
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
The limbs crying for so much more
Pain that it has never missed in its life
Lines so jagged like that of a rigged cliff
As her fingernails pursued their etchings

And she watched with glee with every action
No silence remorse, just a pure sensation of hope
That I would continue diving deeper than my need
Until she would be able to swim in all her lust for life

Condescension of tears falling crookedly from her eyes
Too much laughter that rested on her soft lips
That quickly took me in for her satisfaction
For the cuts that were never healed bleed more

Touching inside me, she ripped through me
Taking me apart slowly and putting together another me
A mere doll of my former past and my former mind
The betterment to her society and a shell conceived of pure love

And yet the sacrifice was hers alone that night
Giving up so much to please herself in her mind
And molding again what she had craved in life
To appease the struggle of eyes that followed her relentlessly

With her re-creation done, her canvas inanimate
Without the spark of a kiss to ignite his soul
She turns to his missing heart of blackened gold
And brings to life the love of her ill-fated past.

© 2005
604 · Feb 2015
Cello'd Revenge
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
Softly tensed- a string of cello’s harm (ony)
Begins a journey through hollow sounds to soothe
Uplifted ****** of ferocity orchestrate
The rise and fall of inner control lost to tranquility

What of peace remains in melodic conduct?
Unbecoming of such distraught frustration
Two-timed tones elude and mislead
Anger augments the pitch in higher discord

Stressed tethers corrupt and oppressed
Buckle under sighed regrets of torture
Unsatisfied feelings upon completion
Strings snap back and play blood-lust tunes of revenge.

© 2008
600 · Feb 2015
The Candy Store Romance
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
She was dressed like a sweet mint candy drop
And roaming through the aisles as if to shop
For a new adventure and a brand new taste

Caught up no less than a romance film’s drama
A little boy that was ‘fresh from his mama’
Out to explore the Candy Store one day

And the aisles slept like a movie reel running
Just to end when the suspense starts coming
A thread of taffy that could be called ‘love’

But who could surmise that the taste was such a dud
And that both candy hearts had trampled through the mud
Just like a thousand little wrappers on the ground

Felt it like it was just another yesterday
When his candy heart was on display
And he could see the joy twinkle in her eye

For the life of him, he could’ve seen it coming before
As it she let it slip and shatter on the floor
The moment she finally said “Goodbye.”
596 · Feb 2015
Portrait (of an Artist)
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
Tender soft skin, once thought to be stone
Once separate layers now split, uneven
Exposing it's red underneath a dark canvas
A razor edge brush guides this painting
The peace that was once dead- springs to life, unwilling
Hoping once more that this form will contain it

A temporary hold; a soulless container
The colors are dull and the mind is hazy
Exposed a red brush upon the dark canvas
The paint is too thin, it lacks the luster
Searching for more, brush turned inward
Gushing from the source for a scarlet hued angle

Fading in and out, a masterpiece undone
Marred with a vision that remains so tranquil and clear
Exposing bits of red to the darkest corners of the canvas
It reaches outward to escape the ending
A final signature, caught weak of final breath
A nightmare come true without the masterpiece completed

This story once told hangs lost on these walls
Fading colors of a past still remembered today
Exposed to reds hue in the dark canvas of this mind
The paint long worn thin and the canvas is tattered
But it recreates itself as this peace will never last
A dead portrait of myself that will never be finished
594 · Feb 2015
AsFhRaAmIeD
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
I'm ashamed to believe
I thought you had answers to questions I had to ask
But learning of you, I've questioned you more
And now I’m wondering why
What do I do?
Can I pay the price when you say it’s due?
The tricks of the trade that I thought I knew
You've seen them all because they were no use
But despite all the conclusions that I've come up to
You've defied every one and there's only one left
That I can accept

I’m ashamed
This firm assumption I can always defend
Till the end
I'm ashamed
For what I've taken from you to use
Because I’d take again and again

I'm afraid to see you now
Avoiding every glance to make it safe somehow
Detoured and yet again, I’m cornered
Because you're at my every turn
And I’m wondering how
How did you come true?
For what have you've gotten this close to me to do?
And have you gotten what you needed to?
Now this push's come to shove, still I lean on you
There's nothing else that I've come to trust
But you've never lie to me, yet I knew
That you’ll betray my instincts again

I'm afraid
This constant fear that I've gained from you
You're gone, but even then
I’m afraid
You'll come to collect when my price is due
And I'm running again and again

I know there’s no use; I would have never won
You’re far too kind to chase me every time I run
The days never end
But now I’m giving myself back to you
To end this eternity
Despite all you could've done to collect me

I'm ashamed I'm afraid
I'm afraid I'm ashamed

The mongrels had come to pick me apart
But then I had learned of the darkness at heart
I'm ashamed

The snow of that day where you've carried my will
The dead are still scattered and the earth barren still
I'm afraid

You've come to collect, yet I still run away
I thought I could live out the last of my days
I'm ashamed

Here I surrender and my heart is my key
My life's torn asunder, in hell we will meet
I’m afraid

© 2014
581 · Feb 2015
A Silver Reminder
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
Depress the edge, this silver charm
Confused in what is senseless harm
Hide away and fleece the warmth
Gravity holds on to the redden form

The stains collected on the floor
Cover up the ones there before
These lines heal so ever slow
But are the quickest to show

Feel the path control its only route
The pain oxidizes half the doubt
Focused on how it came about
A mere disillusion
An uncommon solution

Lost in cold reflection
Trapped in the endless fall
But too deceived by perception
This descent never noticed at all

Here’s the truth that always hiding in the lining
Clearly subsiding as the droplets dry up again
The gentle lines in all the lying is only trying
To stop denying this habit will give in

Lost in brief recollection
Entombed in the endless fall
But too deceived by perception
This descent never noticed at all

© 2014
556 · Feb 2015
Music Box
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
He came home to the ordinary sounds of his everyday life. The phone would ring, the teapot would whistle and his parents would talk and argue. He closed his door, discarding his bag to the side and laying down on his bed. He laid there quietly, his computer beeping and blinking with messages from friends, those sincere and those insincere. Reaching out for the **** of his nightstand drawer, he pulled out the music box he received from his grandfather before he passed away. He flipped it over, carefully holding the lid and wound the silver turnkey tight, letting go. The familiar whirling of the mechanism inside came to life and the tone music echoed the room.

As the music played, he took the turnkey out and attached it to the lock on the side, releasing the lid to the hidden jewelry case. He didn’t have any jewelry to store there; he folded up snippets of letters and notes into tiny squares and dabbed them with color on the edges- each color meant for an experience or a person he favored. Purple was for his grandmother who wrote him little notes every two months… while she was in the nursing home. Red was for the girl that waited for him after school every day… before confessing his love for her. She reciprocated that in later years. Blue was for his own private notes of good times and the good things that happened to him… there were seldom few of those. Black was for the bad things he experienced… and it was in full abundance. The whole case looked much like an obsidian beach with rubies, amethysts, and sapphires hidden within. He looked at them one by one and placed the case back afterwards, then placing the music box back on the nightstand. One day, he’d turn the beach into sparkling gems with few obsidian stones buried below.

He placed his hand on the box, feeling the insides run and imagined the whole process. The spindle turned, rotating the cog connected to the metal drum with raised bumps. The thin metal comb came to meet these bumps and each bump struck a harmonized tone. Inside the mechanism, the pneumatic drum turned and hummed along as the gyros twisted the cogs, seemingly indefinitely never ending. To him, they felt young and ripe at the start but grew old and bitter after a while. The keys would slow, his head would ache from the loss of tempo and his heart would resonate with the soon to fade tones.

In that moment of solitude, his eyes would close, his breathing slowed, and his body relaxed into sleep; and one by one the little bumps would cease to exist on the music sheet, simply melding into the flat mundane roll which began its birth.  The roll just turned and turned silently, never touching the flat metal comb or anything else again. It became like any other music box- silently playing with no purpose. It became his life in sleep… silently living with no purpose but to dream.
555 · Feb 2015
Saga of the Lost Savant
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
In the bitter solace
of this silent abyss
I am not the one I thought I was before

I want to escape
But I’ve punished fate
By myself to be here where I don’t belong

The reasons cease to be
A recourse that appeals to me
I've found naught but a glimmer
[[I found you instead]]

And so I cut away
This decay of flesh and hate
I've been dressed in since I've known my face

I may have hastily
Said this meant more to me
But forever is such a caustic lie

And now you are in me
Accosted and withering
I cut this stubborn sinew
[[I had once called a heart]]

So I bleed to breathe
And bleed to believe
The pain is merely a wake up to the end

To the end of me
A bliss-less eternity
My hands are cold, but my vision never so clear

Now will you call for me
And hear my eternity
The lifeless saga of a lost savant

© 2015
554 · Feb 2015
Coma Knight
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
At night, you dream of magic and the
Dream comes out like clockwork
Precision actions, present like the
Wolves I keep at bay just to assure
You have the sweetest of smiles

Now that you’re awake and gone
Now that your pillows are cold
Now that your bed is all alone
Where do I go?

You rest your head again on the
Gates of a nightmare that I have
To protect you, I lay down my
Dreams so hollow and cold
Fighting fire with fire again

Now that you’re awake and gone
Now that your pillow fully soaked
Now that you’ve escaped what you fear most
Where do I go?
Where can I go from here and just where
Is the light of day you promised
To wake me from the nightmares you
Swore were never real.

© 2014
550 · Feb 2015
Windows on the Outside
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
Sitting so peacefully on a window sill,
Eyeing the world as it sees you cry.
Your window becomes your gateway,
Your world, and your prison in hell.

A transparent frame to focus your sight
On the joys of others not known.
You’d love to be with them, but alas
You are a simple outcast behind glass.

As your heavy sigh breathes a canvas
You toy around with your written feelings.
This message, shown to the onlookers,
Will be your communication and aid tonight.

Send them the message that you want out,
Out of this life behind a clear barrier.
Find that the one looking inside your world
Could be your own self, wanting to look in.

© 2004
540 · Feb 2015
Sharp Words (Cut Deeper)
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
I remember the same look in your eyes
As we went on the same ride
Disappointment followed the weight of your strides
And we went on the same ride
Caught on the dreams of another lonely teen
Saw you peeking through as it ripped at the seams
I only remember the same look in your eyes
As we went on the same ride

You spoke colors and I spoke terms
That you knew we’d never learn
And in the times we thought of love
But there’s too many lies in truth
Even though you've promised change
I cut my hands on the same words
And I keep on bleeding

I remember the sound of your sighs
As we dreamt on the same skies
Turns out they held onto another’s night
As we dreamt on the same skies
And if I could see it coming just like this
Maybe I could make sure I wouldn't miss
I only remember the sound of your sighs
As we dreamt on the same skies

You spoke in years and I spoke in days
Of things we could never say
And in the times we thought of hope
But there’s far too many truths in lies
Even though I've promised change
You cut your hands on the same words
And you keep on bleeding.

We breathe in truths and speak in lies
Of all the wishes that had died
And if we could start it over once again
But we've lost too many chances now
We can always promise change
But we’ll keep cutting hands on the same words
And we’ll keep on bleeding

And you’ll keep on bleeding.


And I’ll keep on bleeding.

© 2014
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
Let's speak of a kingdom that ceases to be
A downfall that passes in time
Through the mouth of our elders
And the lips of our child
The truth buried all the while

The kingdom, a treasure of sight to behold
Its beauty to match none have seen
But if beauty so precious
Was meant to be cherished
Why do stones cry out as they bleed?

The kingdom proved prosperous in the eyes of its people
King and royalty none could refute
But if a stranger conveyed mystery
Could alter just history
Arrived a hooded soul bearing a lute

He played such songs of virulent, reviled memories
Of one who’s pain could not be quenched from misery

The King heard enough of such terrible hymns
And cast sight of this poor soul away
With kindness refused
He promised a tune
That would please every ear that heard play

“Thy kingdom is vast and its subjects enjoyed
But facades are employed nonetheless
A scheme for thy king and a prize for thine queen
Thou subjects shall never protest

A dream in a bottle and a myth in the air
A dagger for each tongue that claims nay
Thy royal folly with intent to unfold
Thine King shall have thy own way

Thy kingdom with no vices shall destroy it all
A kingdom with no reasons has marked its own downfall”

The King yet enraged cast off this charade
And struck his sword, laced with ill-will
“Thy kingdom shall burn,
Thine lesson be learned
You will fight till thy heart is yet still”

Without wasting a single step forward
Without comprising the silence of sound
The hooded soul cackled
With laughter like shackles
His form sank deeper than that of the ground

-End Part 1-

© 2013
The Kingdom, the Army, and the Dead (Poetic Prose- Trilogy)
Neal Emanuelson Apr 2022
You keep crossing lines that I divide
The surface reeks of emotional drought
The constants are bleeding through the needling
The mind snaps as the lights go out
******* only numbs the stings
Doubt festering on darkened lines
Taken for granted on the fraying strings
When all the demons have come alive

So sparse were the days, self-inflicted
Where my liNes could do no wrong
Greater were the internal razing of thoughts
Self induced, it never felt so raw
Sordid reality and reaper of flesh
All here is temporary, the pain is reset
Sparse were the days, they compact, compress
Where the eyes could only see the wrong

In mismanagement, the intent is pushing through
Dissecting the body of fate that held us rusted
Give more to take as we break all that we knew
As our feet stampede unknown paths we trusted
In the face of the one who never tries
I cut myself for the sloth that you harbor
And as I lie here in truth dripping from my eyes
While you watch on, desensitized to the horror

So sparse are the days, self-praising
Where my mind could do no wrong
Greater now the internal razing of thoughts
Self infliction, it wouldn't feel so wrong
Replace boundaries, scar the flesh
It's all temporary, the relief is rest
Sparse are the days, they reverb, contract
Where the eyes could see no wrong

I Am Still
A Lost Mind
Looking Through
The Wrong Eyes
To Undo
The Past Times
I Went Through
Thousand Smiles
All That Hide
The Same Lies
The Same Lies
The Same Lies
494 · Feb 2015
Nosiop Evol
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
A fragrant night that keeps emotions nervous
An uncertainty that held hands, bound by trust
A falling of boundaries that separate the thoughts
This is the dream that poisoned water.

A callous entity calls a lover untrue
The life of one to banish a world to seclusion
These days of old to threaten the hours of new,
This is the heart that poisoned water.

Silent whispers that broke a decibel of skin
A feeling that betrays and leaves unbounded pain
Fed by the ripples of a confused desires of love
This is the poison that seeps into water.

Snippets of memories deteriorated in my hands
Anguish that sits in a vial, colored by the eyes
None drink, but the vials refill from the hurt that is poured
This the source of the poison in water.

© 2005
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
I don’t know whether at once
She was happy or infuriated
When I saw her, as I’ve seen her cry before
But in joyous confusion I consoled her
Caressing her fear and loneliness aside
Along with the hate raging inside her tears

Talks for hours consumed us yet again
And sleep never followed long into the night
Replaced with eons of lost laughter and joyous memories
At least… that is what I’d wish for her.

I do admit that this is only just a dreamt folly
As she continues her days without thought
Of the mistaken one that longs yet for her
But unable to show outside of simple lines
Known, unknown, cared and uncared
These words reach out to grasp a wisp of sound

Tumbling longingly into the memories once had
Now without thought I myself write about her
In mistaken hopes of gaining that which should not be gained
To heal a decade of wounds that cannot be healed
And so I only write, neither with name nor truth but my own
and hope her life prosper without falling back into my arms

At least… that is what I wish for her.

© 2014
484 · Feb 2015
Tempus Neminem Manet
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
Where has it gone?
This singularity of a heartbeat
A moment of comfort and sadness
In which it was free to be aimless
Wandering in this present reality
There is a silent sign, forever bound

Where does it go?
Every second it passes by
For each and every word that sits
Idly on the tongues of perfect strangers
Worlds apart in heart and mind again
It's still a silent concept of a reality

Where has it been?
Staring down all in wait
Never a move backwards
Never a step to alter its weight
But the worth is far too precious to waste
And there's so little left to give away in this state

Where will it be?
When sought for in vain
Can it be found again to be bought?
Presented to those who have lost too much
To gain back what once was lost;
Well it’s lost, and lost again and again.

© 2014
481 · Feb 2015
And It Was Love
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
Lurking in the bellowed silence
A nameless note fills the void.
Passive aggressive mid-tone
Too high strung on this expectation
To linger a lullaby in this remorse.

To whisper soft the fallacy in mind,
To brush off the redemption with
A subtle sweep of a hand-cherished wind.
Murky and visionless wonders abound
To the closing of a tether-less heart.

Be it that sounds play vital veins
Or illusions part reality to satisfy
The conscious limbs of a devotion
Touching the world inside the field
The fission of the split second.

And it was love.

© 2006
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