Empty Is Empty


There is no empty bigger than empty.

You are empty, you are empty, you are empty.

Empty is empty.

Do you want some coffee?

It's morning. How about some toast?


Hungry can fuck itself.

I barely feel it.

I would like some tea.

I won't drink.

We're done.

I'm done.

You're done.

Alone lasts as long as I can.


I found this poem in a nearly empty journal I've been moving around with me since the mid-1990s. I must have written this after a romantic break-up. Obviously, it did not end well. The photograph is from this afternoon.

Empty Is Empty

Grace In Small Things: Part 216 of 365