You've only seen a glimpse of my world.
A glimpse of my hatred,
happiness,
sadness,
depression,
anxiety,
loneliness.

A glimpse of whatever I want to show you because I'm scared.
Scared of how you'll see me when I sob on the ground because I've dropped a plate.
And yes, it may be just a plate but I've been so clumsy and tired.
Disturbed and discouraged by the voices.
The last thing I want to do is drop a ******* plate.

I'd be rattled if you knew that I can't function without pills.
I hate taking them because I can't feel,
But I don't want to hear anymore voices.
I don't want to be the usual freak on the street you know.

If you knew how hard it was for me to get out of bed you'd be surprised.
I only slept three hours last night but I was terrorized the whole time by my own personal demons.
I lay there with my eyes bloodshot and wide open, my body numb.
I want to get up, but what is there for me when I do?
Work?
Like I'd actually want to be there.

If you knew that people stared at me and thought I was hot until the scars adorning my body changed their minds.
And the whispers began.
"Oh my god..." "She's so ugly, such a freak." "******* emo's."
I don't go outside without long clothes anymore.
The only good thing is that I don't have to shave anymore.

I don't visit my family.
I haven't in the last 2 years.
They don't need to see the person I've become.
Even though they've helped made me this way.
And they never stop calling, and calling, and calling!
Can't they understand that I don't want to talk!?
Oh, yes!
Another ******* breakdown.
This time, I didn't drop the plate on accident.

I'm no good to anyone broken.
So I'd rather pretend to be fine and smile.
Than to let you in...
Than to let you see more than that glimpse of what is really *me.

~ 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

Today I bought a square plate
it's not for me, but for an enemy
that I could do worse things to, if I was a less noble person
as the things they've done I will not speak.

The plate is porcelain and quite finely made
elegant and excellently finished for how not so pricey it was
hints of history seems to hide in it's shell--
as seams are weaved into
what has probably lived a long and unused existence
this handcrafted masterpiece.

Separately painted by some fancy artist
to whom I do not recognize the name of,
although it is said he may have done something wrought with his ear
or did this man's uncle make this plate, oh well, I am unsure.

It is these very details to why,
I am now in possession of this piece of the past
that will be priceless to those who know more craftsmanship,
at least more knowledgeable than the man who sold it to me.

From the gleaming in your eyes
I can tell this plate may even mean a great deal to you
is this true my good friend?
oh well, I guess I can give the plate to you
instead of the devil I spoke of before.

*As I handed my prize to them
it began to feel heavier than any ordinary plate should,
gravity granted the greatest reprise I've ever sought
as the demon's face whelmed with depression
and mine satisfaction--
for being such a convincing storyteller.

Human, human, I know you are that smart
Decide what’s best, or when to fall apart
Like when to stop, or when to make a start
Why you’ve to stay, or why you’ve to depart

But since you are too curious of this world
Instead to stand you’ve stayed like firmly furled
You care not if your path now turns like curled
You trace them like a shadow that is whorled

Human, human, are you now feeling dry?
Are you bored of smiling, want to cry?
Do you feel now the need to sound like sly?
A disaster, you crave now, want to try?

Oh, here it is, the recipe you want-
A cup of fear will really help to daunt
A spoonful of insult or a fresh taunt
At night surely Achilles ‘ heel  will haunt

Do not forget to mix a pinch of hate
More wrong thoughts for a glass you need to  sate
Add jealousy and envy to your weight
Eat with greed on disaster’s perfect plate!

The answer to life's problems
Is in front of your face
It is pie indeed
Make no mistake

Pies of all sizes
Take your place
Delightful to gaze upon
If even not so great

How can you mess up
Something in a round plate?

Meringue or not
They are all so yummy
Just thinking about them
In your tummy

The thought alone is
Oh so yummy!

For now I will retreat
To something not so grand
But soon I will rejoice
With pie in hand