taintedly-yours said: Did you hear about the BWR contest?? Richard Siken is judging the poetry section!!! I really think you should enter- the deadline is the first. Good luck :)

I DID NOT! thank you for telling me! I’ll look into it!

Saturday, 10:20 PM   + 4
sleeping-with-winchesters said: If you published a book of your works I would buy it

Thank you so much! This is SUCH a lovely thing to hear, or see rather.

Friday, 01:01 PM   + 1
iwillnotkeepuwarm said: Hi! I just found your blog and just want you to tell you how inspired I am by it. Your words have the same quality has the words of excellent writers. You should publish your poems (I don't know if you already do). It's amazing to see young people with such talent. It inspires me to try to become better at what passionastes me. I wish you the best of luck and hope that you always find inspiration and happiness in writing. (sorry for the average english)

Thank you so much!

Friday, 12:29 AM   + 4

Innocence is crawling on her belly
to the edge of the tallest cliff,
tasting salt, calling it bravery,
never looking down.

Innocence is opening her mouth wide,
the devourer, the starved,
but nothing fits,
and she is still hungry.

Innocence is not beautiful,
she is raw and red and relentless.
She is setting fire to herself
and swallowing the scream.

Innocence is sweating
in the dive bar bathroom,
and pretends that she can hear
her mother singing.

Innocence is dying in an unmade bed
with a faceless boy’s fingerprints
fading from her skin.
She kisses and kisses and kisses
him, but they are both so hollow,
they are both still searching.

Innocence is reborn
on a cracked city street,
and the earth is shaking beneath her.

by Emily Palermo, Innocence Is
Tuesday, 11:13 PM   + 134
flitwlck said: I just stumbled across your blog and I think I have a new favourite poet. Thank you for sharing your words with us.

Thank you for being so kind!

Monday, 09:17 PM   + 2
Close your eyes;
maybe you can imagine
that love is enough,
that you never knew the
sweet taste of doubt
in the throat,
that she is not slowly
forgetting your name
after you failed her,
after you watched
as hell’s fingers
gripped her waist
and yanked her back
into the darkness,
all the while she was
reaching out for your
cursed hand.
by Emily Palermo, excerpt of Orpheus Is Still Singing Sad Songs (via camilla-macauley)
Monday, 09:02 AM   + 92
Anonymous said: hello! your poems are wonderful and I was wondering how you got started. did you take any courses or was it a random hobby you picked up? have you been writing long? which other poets inspire you?

I’ve really just always written things, ever since I was little. Like it always came naturally to me, you know? I’m always inspired by Richard Siken, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Sylvia Plath, Warsan Shire, etc.

Monday, 01:02 AM   + 6
Anonymous said: Hey hey hey there...want to hear something? Something that sounds creepy-because-I-don't-even-know-you-but-can't-help-but-think-this-when-I-read-your-works-and-how-you-join-words-together-that's-just-beautiful-and-new-like-new-constellations-formed-from-archaic-stars-and-other-celestial-bodies? /whisper shouts from a far away country to wherever you live/ I love you!

I’m going to claw my face off, this was so beautiful!

Saturday, 02:19 PM   + 2
Anonymous said: Hiya! So uhm my English class is starting spoken word (kind of like reading poetry) and I'd really really like to talk about /your sadness is not beautiful/ poem, would that be alright? I'll mention your name don't worry - tho heads up, I am not a public speaker so I'll try to do as much justice as it deserves. Do you have any tips on public speaking or just generally expressing to a crowd?

of course you can!

but as far as tips, I have none because I HATE public speaking.

good luck, though!

Saturday, 02:19 PM   + 0

Start with a prayer,
scrape the soft skin
of your knees on glass
and pretend this will work,
pretend there is hope striking
at the walls of your chest.

'Dear God,
Why is he ripping
out my spine?’

'Dear God,
I just wanted to be loved.’

'Dear God,
Don’t let me bleed out
on the bathroom floor.’

Start with an absolution,
pick yourself up
and rearrange your bones
the right way,
into something whole,
into something hungry.

by Emily Palermo, Church