Sometimes you can erase your life
Easy as tearing up old pages from a diary.

At first it might resist, but it eventually tears
Suddenly you’re free.
Hidden from yourself, once again

Easy as that and thrown away
Discarded into the bin.

You didn’t want anyone to see it.
To see you.

And now they won’t.

Later, you may think about those pages
Scenes from your life now lost
Thrown into the ******* trash
Like they didn’t matter.

You wonder what was on them
Were they really that bad?
Did you need to throw yourself away?
But you’re gone now, only vaguely remembered years past.

Why did you do that?
Why were you so afraid,
Why did you hate you so much
Why were those thick bundles of desperately blacked-out words
So wrong and so easy to throw out?
Taken out on trash day
Never to be seen again.

Maybe it was easy to throw away
But never easy to remember
Or forget.

Maybe it was hard to rip up
To tear your memories from your head
Took all your strength, your force, your everything.
But was it?

Shouldn’t it be harder to throw yourself away?

I realise and appreciate that my joy and happiness
depends not on my work alone
but also depends on the work of thousands of people
in a well-functioning society surrounding me.
For example:
When I’m using the internet
I appreciate that thousands of workers at the internet company
are working to bring me internet.
When I’m using water
I appreciate that thousands of workers at the water company
are working to bring me water.
When I’m using electricity
I appreciate that thousands of workers at the electricity company
are working to bring me electricity.
When I’m shopping at the supermarket
I appreciate that thousands of workers at the supermarket-company
are working to bring me groceries.
When I need my garbage collected
I appreciate that thousands of workers in the government
are working to collect my garbage.

I wonder
what are all the social-processes working
to support and facilitate my joy and happiness?

Were suffocating ourselves
           with our own
              plastic bag of denial.



Let us recycle our outdated
                                 baggage
and carry it another way.

I wrote for 10 minutes,
A lifetime of carefully chosen words,
But the app crashed and closed and burned,
And my finished poem disappeared.

It’s been three months since I gave it all away,
Traded in my stripes, sold my youth at a discount price.
And walked away from you.
I made my peace with stone beaches set in the shadows of those endless forests,
Said my goodbyes to the mountain ridges that tower over
the green fields of that old glacial valley,
And in the end, I made peace with you.
The memories of life in a old log cabin,
Wood stove roaring, dishes cleaned, blankets heavy on lovers' bodies.
All these things left behind,
And you.
I move forward. With my chin up and chest out,
I tell myself to forget,
Forget the rank, it’s only pride,
Forget the youth, it’s only life,
And forget the loss of you, it’s only love.
One day, as I march through the shadow of the final valley,
I will find peace once again,
And I will remember you,
My love, my loss, my life, it is only time.

A sleep, so sound
In the alley florished
With green ground
The twinkling of stars
And the horning
Of rough cars,
Disturbs my sleep
That I've fallen
Into deep
Where my eyes are blind
With deaf ears
And a dead mind
A few hands grab
By my soaked frame
Just to drag
Me, out from the pool
Where I was caught in,
Shoved in with a tool
The beats has stopped
My heart aches no more
As my body dropped
In the freezing fog
Out of sight
In an aisle morg
I called out loud
But the airs freeze
In a chilly cloud
My eyes so still
My breaths gone
My bones fractured
My face all torn
My identity stolen
I am no one known
Like any other corpse
I am a garbage, that's thrown....



©sim

these days i paint my toenails light purple
and get lost watching the light through my own hair while riding the bus in the morning
these days the lights stay on
the blinds stay closed
and my throat feels a bit less tight
we kiss in all doorways, not just the one that takes me out
i feel my fingers buzzing for all the right reasons
i feel my skin drying and cooling against warm sheets, not the backseat of the taxi that takes me home
these days i'm finding windows are better than mirrors
and early mornings can be better secret keepers than midnights
and i'm learning a thing or two about softness
these days i fight heavy limbs and a tired soul to try and stay awake
just
a bit
longer
cause i'm scared i might miss something
and the thing is, i actually might
these days reality is giving my dreams a pretty good fight

you forgot to take it
to the curb
you forgot to empty it
your mind had been full
overflowing with the memories of us
it sat there for awhile
you wanted to keep them but
they began to
decompose
perish
rot to their cores
and the smell lingered
you started to bag it all up
one by one you put pieces of us
in a jet black
plastic bag
with a twist tie
and walked us to the curb

If I were a garbage man, then I had had a reason to pick you up again.

Illness from within.
Still I wish to end
This rotting of my corpse.
If not with sheer force,
Let nature take course.

Aching and bleeding inside,
There's nowhere to hide.
All the yelling and screaming,
With feeble meaning,
It's taking its toll
On my fragile soul.

Dark is all I see.
Longing liberty
For the sight of Sun,
What's done is now done.