Emeriy

Emily

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Home by Emeriy, literature

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Home

The smell of cigarette smoke hangs thick from your skin. Suppressing my whispered breaths as they slide over my lips. Weighing heavy on my chest, Suffocating my words. Drowning me in your white kerosene bouquet, Your soul lights me up. Flames licking at my eyebrows and resonating in my teeth. Burning in the pulsing rhythm I have come to so fervently crave. Loosening my grip on reality, And allowing me to slide into the realm of you. The place where it is safe, And it feels like home. Because it is just us. Burning, Under a sheet of stars.

T. by Emeriy, literature

Literature

T.

The old rope burn under your jaw, And the torn flesh of your shoulders. The glass in your socks, The blood under your finger nails, And the initials carved into your chest. That is who you hide. He's the one you keep in the bottom of your closet and in the depths of your eyes And you hide him because you're scared he is you. Because the ashes of a burnout have long sense consumed the child inside, And Narcorics are laced through through the gutters of your Benevolence. So sleep little one, And dream of the souls who have lost you. Dream of the ones on your chest and the things on your shoulders. Of your next Fix And maybe so

My Everything by Emeriy, literature

Her Solitude. by Emeriy, literature

Literature

Her Solitude.

She got dropped in a cave and never came out. Never came out, Never came out. Dark and cold, She never came out. "Bruce...." "Bruce...." "Why did you leave me in here..?" "Bruce...." "Come back Bruce..." Never came out, Never came out. No one to save her. Hidden from the world, She screamed, "Bruce.." But no one is there to hear her, Because she is alone. She echoes off the cave walls, Never came out, Never came out. Slowly fading Gone.

Goodbye by Emeriy, literature

Passing Angel by Emeriy, literature

Literature

Passing Angel

Beautiful and free, She fell like the rain. Crashing and slipping her way through the world. Her frail form held the weight of the Earth's pain. She tried to save us, her banner unfurled. She wanted to change us into a new world. Unflawed and blameless, she took note of all. She saw the world and all its beauty pure, She knew how to tear down our ugly walls. The walls that separate us from the fall of the pride of man. Too strong was the wall. Too oft' had the wall been built and become more. So elegantly as she did come, She left us, thinking of how she felt like home.

A Projection of Her Life by Emeriy, literature

Literature

A Projection of Her Life

Little yellow sign blinks across the screen "hey" It says. "your projector is overheating!" But she pays it no mind. Just clicks the little red X in the corner. It leaves for a while, But soon it is back. Stronger this time, More persistant. "Your projector is overheating!" "Please clean the filter!" She sighs then presses the X again. Then a final warning flashes across the monitor. Just one word this time. "OVERHEATING!!" She looks for the X in the corner, But it is too late now. She has waited too long. The room fills with smoke, And she is smothered. Drowning in her own mistakes.

How old are you? by Emeriy, literature

Literature

How old are you?

Echoing through the hallway, How old are you? No reply, She stares at her feet. How old are you? Louder this time, More demanding. Still, She is silent. He grows inpatient. Grabbing her, He throws her. Smashing her delicate frame through the sheet rock. How old are you?! He is yelling now Daring the neighbors to hear, To intervene. She lays still on the floor, Quietly sobbing. Daddy was drunk again.

starlight dancer by Emeriy, literature

Literature

starlight dancer

The moon shone through the stars, Acting as a beacon of hope to the wandering soul. The world was silent waiting for her, The starlight dancer. for her sweet perfume to sweeten the night air. waiting, wishing, wanting. all for Her. all for just one dance. silently she approached a barren field as her stage. Her light cotton dress, swirling about her knees deftly picking her way through the brush. looking. finding the perfect place, to show her beauty to the world. to give us back the magic, we had long ago lost. and then, she began. crafting her own music as she went not a happy, airy tune. but rather, a song of h

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Home by Emeriy, literature

Literature

Home

T. by Emeriy, literature

Literature

T.

My Everything by Emeriy, literature

Her Solitude. by Emeriy, literature

Literature

Her Solitude.

Goodbye by Emeriy, literature

Passing Angel by Emeriy, literature

Literature

Passing Angel

A Projection of Her Life by Emeriy, literature

Literature

A Projection of Her Life

How old are you? by Emeriy, literature

Literature

How old are you?

starlight dancer by Emeriy, literature

Literature

starlight dancer

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About Emeriy

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Feb 11
United States
Deviant for 13 years
She / Her

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My Bio

9 random things about me:

1) I love to people watch

2) Music is my therapy. It explains me when I cannot.

3) Friends and family keep my broken pieces together.

4) Dasies are my favorite flowers because if flowers could smile, then dasies would be the first ones to do it. :)

5) I love to look at the stars at night.

6) My outlet is to write. I feel like I can tell the piece of paper anything I want without it getting angry at me.

7) I love to play the piano. My poor piano is so abused sometimes. When I have a particularly bad angry day, I go home and play the Piano. Hit the keys as hard as I can and get out all the anger. Poor piano.....

8) I LOVE the rain. The smell, the sound, the dampness in the air once it's over.

9) According to one of my good friends, I have giraffe legs!! ;P

Current Residence: The United States
Favourite genre of music: anything and everything
Favourite photographer: Ansel Adams
Favourite style of art: surrealism, abstract
MP3 player of choice: Apple Ipod Touch
Skin of choice: My own
Favourite cartoon character: Johnny the homicidal maniac
Personal Quote: "If you miss a bus, maybe you weren't meant to take it."

Favourite Visual Artist

Benson Whittle

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

from first to last, my chemical romance, the used, story of the year, I am ghost

Favourite Writers

Sarah arrain

Tools of the Trade

Pen and something to draw/ write on

Other Interests

The piano, music, writing, drawing

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Emeriy

Dec 25, 2012

Scrambled Thoughts

0 min read

There are little things that tickle the back of my skull and lick at my spinal cord. They are sneaky paranoid inklings that never leave. They are what I am. I have become what they are. And I have come to love them. Even though they will be the utter destruction of me. They will run through my blood and consume the person I used to be. They control my life. Pull at my puppet strings, darling. Watch how I dance for you.