Coulda woulda

Could’ve been’s, 

The worst kind of torment; 

Since you know deep down,

Or not that deep at all-

It could have been and wasn’t

Because you weren’t enough. 

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I’m(mortal)

You murdered me a million times,

A hundred times a day.

You murdered me for all your crimes,

& all you could not say.

You choked the words right out of me,

You buried each truth you thought wrong,

You slit the throat that sang for you,

& killed me for having no song.

You murdered me with silence,

You drowned me with your noise,

Hung by my own compliance,

Sentenced by my choice.

You murdered me a million times,

A hundred time a day,

I’ve learned I am immortal,

In every single way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Robot Heart

He got a robot heart

At 57.

Stopped eating fried chicken,

even his mama’s.

Started cycling,

got a helmet.

Cancelled on Doug’s birthday,

sober son of a bitch.

He’s not Little John

No more, he went and ruined the joke.

He’s just different,

Now he’s got that robot heart.

If he didn’t have it-

He’d be dead.

Aghhhh, or something more composed and brave.

So, I’ve been completely rubbish at keeping this blog up to date, due to several things, not least of which, is that my department was all put on notice for redundancy a while back.

And my flat was put up for sale by my landlord.

And…well you get the idea. All change at the Emma will be OK Corral.

I have managed to bag a new job which I start at the start of the new term in August, which will see me working as a PA and also in term time only (shush I don’t want to jinx it). Different hours, different location, different energy completely, so I have gone on a mini mission to get fit to face such challenges with a clear head and a size ten trouser suit. As you do.

I chopped off my hair. As you do.

I invested in a NutriBullet and a Leuchtturm1917 Journal to achieve body and brain optimal results, and so far so good. I am loving my smoothies and have lost 8 lb so far, and though I’ve only just received my new journal today, I already feel my brain sighing with relief because of it’s mere existence and proximity.

Can I swap Yoga for Bullet Journalling? I’m sensing I’ll get more peace of mind from it.

My creativity has slowed down, though I am still writing, and I’m hoping once I’m settled and less uncertain financially and secure in a new place (having a dog is akin to running a crack den according to letting agents) that I’ll be back on track.