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emily rose



Last Updated: 7/3/2009

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Status: Single
City: Detroit
State: Michigan
Country: US
Signup Date: 11/29/2005

Blog Archive
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Tuesday, May 05, 2009 


                         

                     With

                     Laminated Pictures

                     Of Jesus,

         He Came

           To my Sub Rosa

                       Gingerbread House-

        A Heathen Swampland

                   Furnished with Forbiddons.

        Me,

        A “Fallen Angel”

                          Optically Undressing Him,

                             While He Recited the Scriptures

                                                        Like a Parrot!

                                    Shit,

                         I’ve Fallen

                     For a Mormon.



Monday, March 30, 2009 






                               


                                Was a seed once
                    Now a ripe fruit

                Don't even recognize my own Mama.

                                When I get lonely
                        I try to eat
            and masturbate it away

                            It don't work.

            Got hynotized the other day
                            Saw myself composing God
                     on sheet music
                                in the 18th century
                                 
            Sometimes I get so afraid of death
                        That I want to die
                               Just so I can get over it

                        I know I got a purpose though,
        And I get real happy when I think happy thoughts

                                             So I'ma do that.












Tuesday, March 03, 2009 


Haven’t shaved my legs or armpits in weeks
The shower is a scary place right now
Haven’t left the house
Or answered the telephone
I’m afraid that people will notice
I’ve gained weight
Planning to go out when I lose it again
I know I can, I’ve done it a thousand times
Just need to stay focused
At the bookstore,
I see magazines
Skin-tight celebrities
Weight loss secrets!
My mind says:
“The only way I will have a successful music career is by being thin”
On the Internet,
I see images
Teeny tiny girls
Little dresses
Lots of mascara
My mind says:
“The only way people will like me is if I am thin”
I have heard men say things like
“I like curvy women”
But I get way more attention from men after a starve
I mean really
It’s gotten to a point of annoyance
What I am trying to say is
They really love me thin!
If they could see me now
Covered in arm pit hair
A slave to my refrigerator
“Well, I like a woman who takes care of herself…”
What a crock of shit
You’d take her thin regardless of how she got there
I try telling myself things like
“Emily, the only opinion
Of any relevance is your own,
In fact you might very well be the only
Person who actually exists,
And your whole life has been a dream,
Which is why you encounter
All these fucked up coincidences
And are able to see the future before it happens,
Food tastes better than men and a music career, actually,
Food tastes better than thin altogether,
So just eat your dinner, and go read
A self-help book for girls
With disordered eating,
Surround yourself with accepting
People,
You know, pagans and stuff,
Who would never judge your exterior,
Who see your magic,
Who love you for you.
Quit feeling sorry for yourself
And allow your inner beauty to shine through”
But lets face it, that’s me justifying a binge
I tell myself shit like that
When I am walking down the ice cream isle
Of Meijer’s at 4 a.m.
Hoping no one sees me put ice cream in my shopping cart
Because they will say to themselves
“Well she obviously doesn’t need that”
I am so sick of hearing other people’s thoughts
Of hearing my own thoughts
Of living in a society
That encourages competition
That wants women to remain little girls
Physically and mentally
So men can maintain power
While undermining a woman's intuition
Compassion
Nurturing ways
And I am so sick of hearing men say that’s not true
My closet is filled with size three jeans
That I refuse to get rid of
My mind is filled with centuries of self-disdain
Belly filled with yesterdays binge
Heart pumping out of spite
Someone wake me up please
Someone wake everyone up please
Things are not okay




Monday, February 16, 2009 



Once cried nightly in a bassinet, now
maintains that tradition in her own bed, beside
an old chest containing
white blankets
family photos
a sack of seashells

When she is a good girl
replacing breakfast with jumping jacks
she dances lovely with
dizzy spells
sandal straps
a featherweight feeling

When she is a bad girl
teething the victuals
licking salt off her fingertips
careless
she shackles herself to the bed
lets them come in one at a time
to punish her
with their tongues
compliments
calls for love

She sees the other girls
playing hopscotch
from her window,
wants to be free like that
but
has to stay inside today



Monday, January 19, 2009 


I want to be the only thing
          Between you            
              And this wall

I want your sorrow
                     Inside my
            Jungle           
      of
                 Raw
                              Delicacy

 Your doubts
                             Inside my       
Web
       of
                      Silk-Spun
                                      Certainty

       Forget every woman you’ve inhabited
       Forget every moment you’ve lost

       And fuck me     
                 Till you are
                             Nauseous

 

Monday, January 05, 2009 



Back it up for once

and ruminate on the sacredness

of my pussy.


She convinced the devil
To pray on his knees
Hibernate in her canopy bed of undiluted calefaction
Apologize
Subsidize
Then leave at once

She started the rumor of flat earth just to throw them off

She surpasses the first and second laws of thermodynamics,
Proving the theory of perpetual motion
over
and
over

and
over
again

She whispered Theosophy in Madame Blavatsky's ear

Taught Casanova how to french kiss

and
Predicted 2012

She is sunbathing in your pain
Mind fucking you silly
And getting out of speeding tickets

She wants nothing more
than good love

While you scout every street corner for the ghost of a thrill

Propose to her with
Fearful stones

Living everywhere but here

You
Try to get a drink
before
Thanking the faucet

You
Try to own
That piece of God between my legs
That piece of real

I will
have you know

That
she is real

And she is real good at giving

When the recipient
is worthy of her affections


But baby,



You ain't.



Photobucket



Thursday, January 01, 2009 



Your mother raised you
Not to become an adult
But to remain
A child
A pet
A photocopy of her parent's mistakes

Therefore
When you
Tongue
My
Nipple

You are subconsciously nursing still

You don't want me
You want your mom back

You don't want food
You don't want drugs

You want your mom back

You don't want that girl to love you
You want her to suction cup your dick

You want to stare at her dainty doll face
While her rib cage gallivants
Within the walls of your teenaged mentality

Your mother didn't let you touch little girls
When you were a little boy

Because she wanted you to remain a child
Fixed on myths like Catholicism
Fused to her womb
Delighting in the way you needed her to survive
Because she had a purpose finally

And now you want to touch little girls

and you want your mom back.

and you don't know who you are

or why you like dainty little girls

or the feeling of being a bad boy

and you're scared
and I don't blame you.

but
I want to

existentially retract my breast

And wash it real good.




Currently listening:
The Book of Secrets
By Loreena McKennitt
Release date: 2006-11-14
Thursday, December 25, 2008 

Current mood:unravelled
Category: Writing and Poetry




Every time you come
you come inside

You don't stand at my door with flowers
You don't ask for years of forgiveness

Between telephone calls from your current lover
and your former lover

Between your beady brown eyes
Between my sympathetic thighs

You don't stand at my door

You come inside
Licking the walls
with morning breath
Electing me as your timeless mistress
you know
Even the mice in my kitchen feel used
once you leave
And return to your current lover
or your former lover
Who you swore on your dick you didn't desire anymore
you lying sack of shit

Leave me
and my mice
and my welcome mat
alone

I am so sick of loving you.



Tuesday, December 23, 2008 

Current mood:talismanic










My life is very strange...


Currently reading:
The Weird 100
By Stephen J. Spignesi
Thursday, December 18, 2008 

Current mood:blinking
Category: Writing and Poetry


When I think about wheelbarrows and scarecrows nothing comes to mind but when I think about losing my virginity I guess certain places, smells, and words surface like the dry cleaner's parking lot, chlorine, and can we just make out

Before we are even born maybe we browse through a vast catalog of potential parents
but some of us subscribe too late, and are left with the scraps
of undesirable x and y combinations
Note to self: register in advance next time

I just ate ice cream with my fingers because I couldn't find a spoon
it was so cold

When I was fifteen years old one of my girlfriend's fathers had blond hair and washburn hands that I imagined were touching me when we talked about the blues

What if the voices I heard as a child while lying in a spider-infested canopy bed were apocalyptic messages to which if I had paid attention I'd be saving the world, and now I'm failing my life's mission

Next time I get high and listen to opera while reading Thoreau out loud to my pet rabbit I'm going to not hope that you stop by

The center of our earth is a bowl of honey combs swarming with unimaginable scenery and possible intelligent life and when shit hits the fan some of us can hide in there and repopulate. Fuck mars!

I remember overhearing her yell at her dad once for flirting with me, which made me happy because it actuated the fact that he was flirting with me and I wasn't just imagining it.

Maybe everyone you've ever met is a variation of you, a projection of your mind, because I met this woman the other day who I swear was channeling me in the future and it made me cry and it made her cry too and it was the most intense thing that has ever happened when she said:

"Even if we never meet again, I will always be there with you"




Photobucket

Currently reading:
Half-lives
By Erica Jong