It’s Just a Simple Trade: My Life for Yours

A poem in which I lose

Photo by Blake Cheek on Unsplash

It's just a simple trade, my life for yours
My loss of life is a side effect you will never slow to notice 
To you, you’ve just regained your stability, sedated your crazy
But for me, I can already feel the fade

How bittersweet to have what I want while it asphyxiates my being 
How strangely erotic such a submission of control to the hands of the middle man of death can be
But I’m no longer breathing and you’re no longer noticing

It was a just a simple agreement, your hand in mine, my hand in yours
For you, it’s just what you do: Love, territory, testosterone
For me, I feel sick

How cramped, when your hand is like a cell and I am like a prisoner. 
How f*cked, to be harmed by the very arms that protect you
How sickening when you’re no longer noticing that I’m no longer breathing

It makes so much sense though, that I would be treated so
Why not in this instance would I be treated better though? 
How resolute I feel as I realize just what I am to do
I’ll keep my life, I’ll spend it on loving people instead of time sitting next to you

So now I know my purpose, leave this shitty life behind, go instead to what will surely be a worse one, to make the old one seem like it was a good find

How lucky, if by chance it’s better than the one I share with you
I didn’t know it could be worse but soon I’ll know it can be better too

It’s just a simple contract between each human being
No initial cost; no expiration date, 
but there will always be a fee, a birth, a death, and inequality.


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