To Walk the Hallways

to walk the hallways of my mind tonight
to haunt my own memories
to stalk intangible dreams that die
to wake in twitching mind’s eye

my living ghost paces the day
circles her familiar home
never quite able to tell for sure
whether asleep or living hell

let me wander in darkened rooms
in corridors away from here
where only one holds the key
and she’s kept it hidden away

~ Emily C.



Poisoned Dreams

your chest was once my pillow
your heart my poisoned dreams
the driving rain on the window
my tears echoed in their grief

a stroke of hand feels for flesh
reveals illusion in night’s death
a nothingness in place of you
a vacant cold my hands caressed

your image stirs behind tired lids
your name froths on tip of tongue
drifting to unconsciousness
toxic dreams of hope, my bane

to wake, to sleep, matters not
either realm reminds me
you left your crumbs of memories
dried bits of love left molding

o, slip me wine, a bottle or two
numb this aching heart
how can one escape a ghost
when he’s in every thought


~ Emily C.


In These Dreams

I dreamed of the words
I’d never speak

tucked in blankets of apathy
turning in throes
wild and free, wild and me

under stars I painted in my own sky

a black canvas
only meant for light

old night
brought new consciousness

rattled into being it spoke
from a beyond I could not reach

could not hear, would not see
will never know
but here, but now

in these dreams


~ Emily C.


Mourning Chris

Last night I had an extremely vivid dream where I was sobbing at the death of someone who was not identified. I woke up exhausted as if I’d been crying all night.

The first thing I do is check my phone and what do I see…Chris Cornell of Soundgarden had died overnight. 

I have been in shock and bawling all day. I have a story to tell. Hopefully, tomorrow I will be able to put my feelings down and recount this surreal day in Seattle. 

We’ve lost a legend, one of if not the best rock voice in history…4 octave range. 

This city — his birthplace — and the world mourns deeply today.

And that dream…not even kidding. That’s the truth. I can hardly believe it.


Photo my own. I was the first to lay flowers at the fountain and at KEXP radio station today. Space Needle went dark from 9-10pm in his honor.


I am jealous of the mountains
their private view of cosmos
the forests’ age in timbered sage
of the raging rivers, pristine lakes
the rolling moors and sandy shores
icebergs and hieroglyphed caves

I envy the lofty clouds
pillowy heavens, close to the sun
the roaring gusts, towering swells
the rain and the pelting hail
the boulders and prehistoric sand

They, the last ones standing
the only ones left 
the sole witnesses
to the end
of time, of this, of now

of all

Swallowed in a brilliant show
of fire
from glory to nothing

(oh, to go so!)

the only audience
the only act
no refund

exit stage left


~ Emily C.


When Puppets Turn

Whispers in the dark
(are my eyes closed
or not?)

sinister apparitions
play shadow games
on the walls of my mind

strike a pose, mock a dream
show me what I’m wanting

temptations delivered dancing
my deep-seeded seeking
they cackle at my weeping

when puppets turn
their snarls affirm
this conscious life

is the truth
is the nightmare
is the only dream

one in the same
and it is here

I stay

~ Emily C.



In response to a tag on Instagram by a friend for “dreams and nightmares.”

To All The Hearts

to all the gals who love fellas
fellas who love gals

to all the ladies who love ladies
and fellas who love fellas

to all those who love both

to all the hearts beating
and all the hearts broken

to the ones come
the ones gone

to lovers that won
to the ones who lost

to poets writing consumes
to the ones with blocked pens

to the mountains and oceans
yet to be described

to all the flowers and birds
undiscovered with words

to the next person you see
who you never want to flee

to the love so powerful
you cannot live without it

— this life is too short

to spend wasting time
this life is too short

to not go after

your dreams


~ Em C.