Elisa Lam is the black water
vanished behind the rafters
Peeking like a laughing ghoul with a lit up elevator
No, I am the black water
Sick, so utterly sick
Of playing this weak game
Us
Life
Sick.
I regurgitate into myself
I drain and dip and steep like the most common tea
So rich like a dead moor
A swamp thing without any love door
Closed. Damned. Forgotten.
I'msosick
Infected work with a bloated fly
I was Elisa Lam
Heartbroken and Alive
She is a miniature Alice
Crumbs that take her up like an elevator
In a sick, gargantuan cloud
Of sweet potato-lightning-darling pie
About the Creator
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More stories from Melissa Ingoldsby and writers in Poets and other communities.
Affection and Healing for Yourself
During the night of the last quarter moon, I gathered my ritual supplies. I carefully handled the chunk of black tourmaline that would protect me from your overall negative and narcissistic energy. I carefully walked the house with my stick of selenite in hand, asking the universe to cleanse our working space.
By Alisha Wilkins ✒️🦋🖋️2 days ago in Fiction
Comments (5)
This is very good. I read it a couple of days ago, and forgot to comment it seems. I wasn't sure who she was, which is kind of embarrassing being I'm Canadian.
This poem was so good some of the lines were just devastating. Now I’m damn curious to find out what happened to Elisa Lam
Brilliant work as usual! Praying that you feel better soon...
The case of Elisa Lam was so scary and devastating! I hope you're okay Merly 🥺 Sending you lots of love and hugs ❤️
Interesting, I wonder is this self reflection poem or fiction poetry