Creed

I, Emerson Stone,  being for the first time in my memory of completely sound mind, hereby solemnly swear not to allow the fruits of my labor to die. Rather, they shall prosper for I have met for the first time today the real me. And he's terrifying

Stone.

Artillery: The Cello

hurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsitHURTS

when you're not        H          E            R               E

(this is the prologue)

Strength is always expected to be so strong.

But who holds the sluice key to Strength's submerg'ed heart?

the cello

I can hear the cello,

and it reminds me of you.

(interlude)

The fullness of you overflows, filling me,

And I, the phantasmagoric grotto scum, the slithering dregs,

The cobblestone corridor of words and neon,

I become complete:

A radiant entity of white and pink and gold.

In the tumult of my mind at night, I enclose a memory of your smile within my pocket, to remove at will whenever you're not with me. The distance, the space, the too-sudden temporary displacement of space. I forget sadness, I forget love, I forget everything beautiful and fearsome. I only remember YOU. And how little justice the words "I love you" do when trying to describe the way I feel. I wish that time would hiccup, and the only things left after the evaporation of the world were you and I. I.........

I Care So Much It Hurts 
and i wouldnt have it any other way, honest

"Drunk off of nothing but each other till the sunlight / I would give it all to not be sleeping alone"

B.

c.

B.

come back to me soon

<4

+ Ari, the Artchebishope of Artillery

Hello world

My name is Emerson Stone. Two days ago it was my birthday.

And what a birthday it was indeed.

My birth name was given to me in acclamation to the writer and poet Ralph Waldo Emerson, for I was born free from the grip of the authoritarian world; an outcast that now must roam underneath the evil eye towards the back alleys and the decrepit dirty roads. I am the outlier of the human equation,  which in turn allows me to observe, and record.

My last name Stone, was given to me by the folklore from the East. This is my rock, and upon it I will build my kingdom of dissertation and free verse. As I continue to flourish, my text shall spring forth and blossom in ways I can't now even hope to imagine. My words and I are single solid movement; a stone falling sweetly down a never-ending fissure, searching only to find what's on the other side.

My search for truth is vast, and my travels have not yet begun, but here is what may be known as my beginning. Welcome to my ever ascending isle.

And with that we know that we can never return..

Emerson.

November the first, year two thousand and ten.

The day and year of my birth.

.

O what watchers are we? That claim to do all but prosper. 

Make not a sound, for we few have awoken the sleeping giant.

Andrew Emerson Stone.