no excuse

Shave my legs and put the pieces back together it’s the middle of August but we got that September weather and I swear I’m better. I swear I’ll be better. I don’t know what I can say that I haven’t said already: buttoning and unbuttoning; unbearably light then unbearably heavy. Walked into the void and it greeted me at the door: “I know we’ve seen you here before”. Guess I never learnt my lesson.


An empty head
Is no excuse
For emptiness
Is no excuse
For an empty head
Is no excuse


Excuse me I know I’ve been here before because those clouds taste familiar and I think it’s more than just a sliver of nostalgia I think it’s more than just winter going sour I think it’s more than this surely it’s more than this. Keep me going on Wednesday nights. I’ll stay up passed close for any type of beautiful prose. But it doesn’t have to be beautiful. It doesn’t have to be. Doesn’t have to be beautiful just has to be prose. Stay up passed close. Walking streets alone. Dirty dishes reflected in a glass metronome. Why does home feel like home. How do I inject that feeling into my own bones. Home in my bones not at home in my bones just walk the streets alone til the marrow turns to honeycomb and the road disappears, tuck yourself into a poem.


I stopped returning calls.
I know it’s no excuse
But please
May I be excused
For just a second
Just til September
Then I swear things will be better.

By em

a sometimes poet, sometimes painter, always philosopher

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