feel like crying

i wrote this journal page a few days ago
today
there is no fight left in me
(but
there probably is)
just feeling disillusioned with one half
of the population–
you know who you are
you motherfuckers–
i will always be alone
if y’all continue
to be
assholes.

highlights from my patreon page:

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good morning…it’s me

i am now gainfully employed…ish
working just part time
so the minions & my art stay
nurtured.
but my art is not as insistent
as my minions
until i find myself going
a little bit
mad
for neglecting it.

i am enjoying playing with my own style
as well as accepting that it is
what it is…
i look forward to doing some finished pieces–but that might have to wait until i am a bit more finished myself…at least as far as housing goes.

my postings on my patreon page are sporadic as well…but you are welcome to see for yourself for just $1 a month!

this is my life

i was squatting in a stream this morning to wash the mud out of misha’s clothes when i thought
“this is my life”

how did i get here?
which twists & turns & choices made
led me to this place

i am both grateful for a place to be
to figure out my next step
& anxious
about where that next step will take me.

to help support my journey in exchange for art & writings by me…check out my patreon page.

today on my patron page i share two art journal pages & my recent brush with misanthropy & theories with how isolation feeds a dark part of one’s soul.

crusty & morose

my soul
is dislocated
i cannot feel
anything
but a raging fire
of
indifference
with light showers
of disgust
& several hues
of irritation
life feels like
lukewarm
leftovers
that i am hungry
enough
to eat
some of
but then the rest
is left
to become
crusty
a half-finished
bowl
of
disappointment.

it’s like a drinking game for mixed metaphors. ha! i am starting to feel better. doing art has relieved some of my angst. but it is still there. seeping. dripping. getting under my foundation and uprooting all my so-called progress (i had to throw in another fucking metaphor.)
i feel ugly & fat & my hair is just stupid & everything sucks.
but!
i will keep drawing & see if i can ink myself out of this corner. (does that count as a metaphor?)

credit to evelyn de morgan for the illustration today. she is pretty awesome & all of her artwork just oozes gloom & doom.

fallen X

your whole life spent
in punishment
for your sins
did you choose
parents would would not
love
you
naturally following
a choice of men
who could not
love
you
to draw the
conclusion
you
are
unlovable?
your punishment
your sins
your wrongs
you’re wrong
you have not
sinned
you do not deserve
this
hell
you lock yourself
into
no
no more shackles
no more self-flagellation
you are
lovable
you do deserve
love
spread your wings
you sexy
beast
spread your wings
&
fly.

catholicism, that double-edged sword–messed me up a plenty, but also gave my art & writing a flavor that i love.

still invisible

every time i think
of writing
you
the words turn into
poetry
before i can pen
them
& next i find
myself
hoarding my own
words
clutching them
close
not wanting to
share
wishing myself
invisible
again
remember when i was
invisible?
camouflaged inside my own
life
unremarkable
me
oh how i miss
my
solitude
but these words i show you
now
they are my new
camouflage
because, really
you may look
but you still can’t
see
me.

just feeling a bit conflicted about how visible i make myself. there is comfort in being invisible. as much as i try to be seen…sometimes i want to disappear.
most times.
just call me the invisible exhibitionist (so totally a title to an upcoming memoir)

fly, my lovelies, fly

i love to set
my demons
free
go
fly
my lovelies
fly from me
swoop & terrorize
with shrieks
of
delight
as i loose you
onto the world
loose you
from my cobwebbed
mind
& you take with you
the dense
darkness
of my heart…
i never ask
what you did
my demons
when you
return
to roost
i only
revel
in the short but light
time
of mine
in a head
in a heart
that is
not
haunted.

yesterday i posted about my crap-ass experiences with my own motherhood. i was in pieces as the words spilled out, but by the time i posted them, i had pulled myself together.
because i wrote it out
i let it out
i am not joking when i compare my art & writing to an exorcism.
it so totally is.
my art & my writing keep my demons at bay. keep them from gnawing too deeply into my soul.
some of my stuff might be difficult to read…but don’t worry, you don’t have to read it.
i, however, have to write it.

INKtober twenty-seventh

i don’t want
to feel
angry
every time i see a forever
couple
in love
i don’t want
to feel
sad
wondering what is wrong with
me
that i am denied
that perfect
beautiful
love
still…
i hold on
imagining strong arms around me
feeling that warm embrace
knowing love evades me
i am doomed
to am amazing
inner
life
& an empty
outer
one.

i do not know what is going on here. it appears my vagina is a black hole vomiting stars. okay.
i draw what comes into my head.
sometimes i have an idea.
sometimes the idea has me.
as always, you are welcome to analyze my art & let me know what my subconscious is trying to say.

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