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emmyemmy0 commentsdiaries, non-fiction, the truth

future emily,

you’re here. hello, and thank you. it’s the nineteenth of july in the year 2022. you are currently (as of writing) on a gap year. you have been enjoying the immense rest.

             i have many questions. mostly, i want to know what you are doing. are you happy? are you grateful. how is everyone? mum; dad; the rugrats. how’s your health? i’m sure you’ve been thinking about that a lot, too. it’s always so up and down.

             when i think about the future, i’m not sure exactly what excites me most. i’m thrilled and nervous about all of it. i have my moments of intense restlessness because i often want everything, all at once, right now. are you still impatient like that? or do you have it all?

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emmyemmy0 commentspoetry

to abundance

i’m so surprised & unconvinced
about the finiteness of the world

the truth still is:
if you want it all,
you can have it

all, you can have it,
more? whatever you want,
it’s yours

whatever you’re asking
you’re given – whatever it is,
delivered; if you’d surrender

to abundance.

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emmyemmy0 commentspoetry, the libidinous consort

the colour of quarks

being queer is being pleasure. it is the highest form of art. when you are queer (which is when you are always) you pity those who aren’t. being queer undoes your seatbelt—it is the stranger at your door. when you are queer, you’re so insufferably good-feeling—a bigot mourns. being queer makes you a blessing—the next day alive can be a miracle—since rising from a stupor is defiance, pure & simple. being queer is navigational—though versatility is welcome. it is eating from the dog bowl—& then surfing in stilettos. being queer is quick to suffer; both erotic & lubricious. it’s perverting prior signals—holding hands turns fetishistic. being queer is on the weekend. or it is crushed into your coffee. it’s a painless execution—with you at church, on both your knees. being queer is biodegradable (just not in the way you think). being queer is body-hot—feeling so horny that you vomit. being queer is hand on throat. a ring of bruises; righteous necklace. being queer’s a melting ice cube—forever sliding down your sternum. being queer is proof of bullets—or else the shore of foamy leisure. being queer is subatomic—inextricable from nature.

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emmyemmy0 commentsnon-fiction, poetry

PAST, PRESENT, FUTURE TENSE

when i say pink i mean a loving deity. poetry
makes for unwinding an insinuation. i am decidedly
hard to understand & obtuse for the pleasure of it. so
when i say lightning i mean ether in my hand. when
i say ocean blue, i mean the spirit in feathers, &
floating through a higher field. when i say lavish
i mean stacked rings, frosted cupcakes. eh maybe
obscurity is my trendy defence mechanism. i
guess when i say chemistry, i mean undulating
waves. when i say organised i mean a hurting world
trying to hammer out its growing pains. but listen
when i say black lives matter. i mean
black lives matter.

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