Emily Serena
Bio
truly, my dharma (life purpose) is to write. although death is an interesting means of a beggining to me rather than an end, I still choose to spend my moments as Emily, in this physical dimension, in a revolution of poetry & silent speech
Stories (14)
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Luminosity
suppose, summer was evidently eurphoric. and the settlement of my body throughout the hazy months, the resting of my bones into sunny stained grass had diminished its frequency as snow eased onto the forecast. icicles became a phenomen of the asbsurd artistic nature of the outside world; the windows only held images of trees with no more leaves to play tag with the wind and some days it hailed, it rained, the sky cries and it’s all washing
By Emily Serena3 years ago in Psyche
Mother Issues
her mom hated me, like my mom hated me. this hatred. just feed it, fed it, the more I overthought it. I fed it, I know. yet the yesterday’s I sat traumatized by being raised by a pyschopath woman spilled into my power. I had a strange relationship when it came to the word “mother.”
By Emily Serena4 years ago in Confessions
What Love Isn’t
she didn’t look at me with hesitation. the way we do to strangers until we remember to smile or offer some warm gesture as to keep them from insecurity. her smiles & nods felt familiar. she desired to call me friendly nicknames from day one. we worked alongside each other making drinks & serving anxious customers addicted to caffeine, & my nervousness seemed to sink into oblivion. she never had a single glimpse of uncertainty from the second I met her, & that was unnerving.
By Emily Serena5 years ago in Confessions
Los Angeles
I refuse to have there be something I need to achieve. it scares me in small fleeting seconds, the judgement i project on this city I live in, where car horns are honked excessively, & the whole energy is one of “rush.” speed is admired here. wealth defines your social status. this is a corruption. corrupt because it’s a thin, selfish & fearful desire the society within this city feeds off, that there’s always something in the future. the clock eats them. swallows them & digests them whole, then over & over, daily. there’s always something in the future for LA, always. & they never quit chasing the future, because the future never comes.
By Emily Serena5 years ago in Poets
Bliss
I refuse to know, anything to be true. merely everything has an opposite, every opinion has another opinion fighting against it. the world once exploded with Christianity, that lasted. then the world erupted into Buddhism, that lasted, but which one was correct, since they both ended? is the Buddhist way of life correct, or is there a man in the sky judging our sins?
By Emily Serena5 years ago in Poets
