Having decluttered closets of clothes, shelves of books, drawers of toiletries, cabinets of expired food products, I've finally got down to the paperwork. I keep finding little gems that I really like, yet can hardly believe that I wrote. Here is one I found, that - to my surprise - is written in the 5-7-5 haiku form. I'm not sure I intended it to be, but then again, maybe I did. My memory is awful. But I do remember why I wrote this: it was when what I thought was the most wonderful love affair, turned out to be just another abusive relationship.
My heart aches. It breaks,
I think -- but really it is
the pain of waking.
That's the thing. All the nasty shit in life is the stuff that ends up being good for me. I need it, in a way, in order to grow. And well, after all, what is fertiliser made of?