badass

why do i so often
paint myself
as the victim
i honestly don’t see myself
as a victim
yes. i fall in love with abusers
but i also leave
yes. i come back
once or twice or a dozen times
(my heart is a loving
& hopeful place)
but i am a badass
& i will not stand by
to have abuses
heaped
on me
& ultimately
i rescue me
ultimately
i leave
ultimately
i heal
it might take a try
or two
but ultimately
i kick ass.

two step

does feeling out of control
trigger
the anger
or does being angry
create this feeling
of being
out of control?
dancing this dance
leaves me wanting
to turn the
fucking music
off.

going through all of my self-portrait series journal pages tells me that i use “dancing” & “wondering” a lot. i am dancing with wonder? wondering about the dance?
going through all those journal pages is also bringing up a lot of feelings that i really don’t want to be feeling.
ack!
i hope i survive putting this book together!
if i do survive…surely i will be stronger for it….

my singing siren

are you drawn
to the gravity
of me
or is it me
drawn
into your orbit?
i don’t want to believe
you are craning
your neck
to see
the wreck of me
but rather
marveling
at a brilliant
sunset
an enormous
harvest
moon.

i keep seeing this guy all around town. like all the time. i’m trying to figure out what is going on. like are we meant to meet? do i know him from a previous life? i have talked to him once when i ran into him as we were each walking our dogs. i couldn’t see him as it was a super dark star lit night on a back road out of town…but i knew it was him & felt completely at ease stopping & chatting on a dark, deserted road.
so what’s going on with that?

i wanna start the fire

an explosion
that instant
that spark finds
the ball of gas
&
ignites!
all my life
i’ve feared it
throwing myself
on the flames
so as not
to attract
attention
sacrificing myself
to keep things
safe
& unchanged
but is the lack of
change actually safe
or is that the
building
ball of gas
waiting for my spark
to
ignite
it?

more on my inevitable transformation. preparing for that. need to put on my goggles & flame retarded suit.

moaning lisa

if i ever do become famous
it is going
to be embarrassing
how many men
have
heart wrenching
letters
from me….
(assuming that they didn’t
all end up in
the rubbish bin
where they probably
belong)

true story. i’m a mess of a person who likes to write out how big of a mess i am & send it out to all the boys who really don’t give a crap about my wretched heart.

find me

bits of my soul
fly into the trees
cawing
from branches
looking for you
i want to love you
with every ounce
of me
but first
i need to
meet
you…
the moon gazes down
at the world
we share
& i wonder
when
i will let you
find me.

more relationship wandering…wondering.
i have pulled tarot cards on my two decks. the me card crossed by my conflict card.
me: the high priestess
crossed by: the lovers
me: temperance
crossed by: king of pentacles
and i understand, that for me, relationships are a conflict. but am i creating that conflict or should i beware of the conflict? am i conflicting myself from being in a relationship…or is the relationship the conflict?
i keep confusing myself on this.
meditating for clarity tells me i am my own conflict…which is still confusing me.

love him love him not

reading journals
from 20
from 30
years ago
seems i had
an on-again
off-again relationship
with everyone…
look at me
hot & cold
i love him
i love him
not
do i enjoy
this inane dance
should i come with a warning
“i will love. you
deeply
dearly
but i will also
detest
you.”

it wasn’t until i was scanning this in that i realized i had put in all those daisies to have their petals ripped away one by one.
after i inked the woman & her horns, i sat & stared at the page for a long time before i finally realized that she & the page should be covered in daisy petals.
but it wasn’t until i was done & the page was recorded that i realized why.
i love him. i love him not.

funny.
so this is my own reaction to me in all my journals of past. then with the more recent history of breaking up with dusty…making babies with dusty…breaking up with dusty.
seems i’m stuck in a bit of a pattern.

or am i just entering into faulty relationships that require a stepping away & am just not stepping far enough away fast enough?

blast from the past

i don’t know why
men treat me this way
i don’t know what i’ve done
to deserve such cruelty
& apathy
i struggle to believe
i’m lovable
i struggle to believe
i’m a good person
yet somehow
i only get used
& tossed aside
i see these people
other people
happy & loving relationships
& i wonder
what’s wrong with me?
so i say to you
pretty boy
don’t worry
everyone kicks me
when i’m down…
it was probably
just your
turn.

another snippet from a 20 year old journal. it was written in prose form, but if i had written it today, i would have written it like this.
it reminds me of one or two of my pages of my the invisible exhibitionist. that last bit.

i’m hoping i have evolved past this lovelorn puddle of me…but if i happen into another relationship…will she return?

2001 a journal odyssey

nevermind
he broke my heart
something
wrong with me
i guess
i’m just something
to use
& toss
aside
unloved
unwanted

i’m tired
of men treating me
like i don’t
matter
how come no one
treats me
like i mean
something
do i think
so little
of myself
that i let
every asshole
take away
a part of me
& piss
on the wound?

these are words i wrote in journals in 2001 when i was 31. they were written as prose, but i could see how they would be written in free verse i journal in these days…so i put them in a page of my journal 20 years later.
maybe now you can see why i am scared of relationships?
granted most of these past 20 years have been spent in just one relationship…but, fuck me, it was a doozy of a mind fuck.

i like to think i have recovered some since i first wrote these words. my art journaling has definitely helped me to scab over some of these wounds.

now, i guess, i peek out of my hole & wait for spring. surely spring is coming? though not with a gentle blossoming but with a storm of the century….
(journal pages not yet written)

ps. though my handwriting & heartache stay somewhat of a constant…i am happy to report that my art has greatly improved!

song sung blue

getting drunk
& singing along
with neil diamond
at the top
of my lungs
& crying
with all the grief
of my
lonely
heart
who knew i had
tied up
so
much
pain
into song lyrics
a lifetime
of singing along
with neil diamond songs
leaves my
lonely heart raw.

first off–my scanner is broken? so i had to use my ipad to snap a version of this art journal page for y’all. i am trying all my tried & true methods–pleading with it…smacking it…but it is unresponsive. time to re-think my approach to cooperation with technology?

also, i have learned through astrology memes that it is not at all uncommon for cancers to sing along with sad songs when they are sad.
turns out i’m not that special after all.


Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑