disappeared

i want to just
disappear
no one loves me
anyway
i’m alone
so alone
& no one
not ever
reaches out
just to say
“hey–are you okay?”
i’m damaged
hurt & confused
it’s no fucking secret
i struggle
every
day
& no one
not ever
just for the fuck of it
checks to see
if i’m still
breathing
i’m alone
so alone
&
i have
already
disappeared.

i’m going through some rough shit right now. i don’t know what’s wrong with me.
i spent yesterday reading through select years of my journals to see if i could figure it out.
i don’t seem to be an inherently bad person. just stupid. so why does everyone gravitate away from me?
why does everyone leave me?
or just have nothing to do with me to begin with. not even the other lepers want to deal with me. i always think i am ghosting–but no one saw me in the first place.
(except for the narcissists. they usually stick around. which is all the more damaging as it turns out.)
what is wrong with me?

if i had a friend or a sister who was alone in the country with four kids, i would fucking check up on her. why does no one ever do that?
it makes me cry.
i have been crying for days now.

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broken people

i’ve always loved the broken people
always always
i am drawn to them
but not like a moth
to a flame
because i am also the fire
my own all consuming
damage
at least as deep
as theirs
at least as bright
as theirs
i love them because i think
they will understand
they will know me &
they will love me
because i am like them…
thing is
when both of you
are broken
who is picking up the pieces?

this was originally posted on july 3, 2018. it was inspired by the song “broken” by lovely the band.

i can’t decide which one i like better. i think i like the original better. it’s creepier. and the leg splay is awesome. but i do like the rouge i put on the second version.

caged bird drawing

clipping digital
coupons
entertaining children
with my drawing
skills
(at least someone
appreciates
them)
baking bread
washing dishes
cooking meals
wiping butts
dreaming
of
being
fabulous
while living life
in the body
of a low income
middle aged
single
mother
of four
i took the bait
without seeing the
trap
i made my nest
without seeing the
cage
now i sing my
song
but
nobody
hears
me.

more moping.
you would think, after thirteen years, i would have a hang of this motherhood thing.
but no.
i still look & wonder & cry that i am alone at it.
alone & broken.
maybe in a parallel universe i have a supportive husband who did not make my life hell for shits & giggles.
maybe in the parallel universe, being a mom does not feel like a trap & a cage.

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.

needless pt. 2

needing
pisses me off
i keep my needs
buried
until they become
my
molten
core
& eventually
i erupt
covering anyone near me
in
raging
lava
& i am left to punish
myself
for having had
needs
to begin with
for having let
my needs
out
to create injury….
but
what would happen
i wonder
if i just asked
for what
i
need?

continuing my brain dig for answers about my inability to have healthy normal needs…or being unable to deal with them in a healthy normal way.
the thought on this page is continued onto the next post i am doing–“needless pt. 3″…so stay tuned, my lovelies.

i went through my old journals last night. four journals of self-portraits. i was trying to figure out who to re-create & who would stay put. alas alack, there are so many self-portraits i just love…which i suppose is a good thing…but i really should narrow them down unless i am going to try to publish an encyclopedia of me….
anyhoo. going through all my old stuff kind of inspired the illustrations for the two pages i worked on last night (needless pt. 2 & pt. 3)

dude, i am almost done with a fifth journal of self-portraits, and i haven’t even picked any from that journal yet….
encyclopedia of me it is!

needing to be needed

i am needy
i my need
to be needed
as the band says
i need you
to need me
so
i make myself
indispensable
i am the most
dedicated
employee
sure, i’ll do extra work
dirty work
whatever you need
i am the most
passionate
girlfriend
my blowjob will roll
your eyes
like a slot machine
and
i make a mean
cheesecake
anything
everything
so that one day you realize
you
cannot
live
without
me
i am needy
in my need
to be needed
no wonder
i’m a dog
person.

more exploration of my fucked up ability to need. i need to make you happy so that you will not leave me.
but that only lasts so long.
i either scare people away with that intensity…or i burn out and wander off when that one way street leaves me empty.
meeting everyone else’s needs, but never asking for what i need…and always surrounding myself with people who would rather it stay that way.
ay yi yi
so much to dig around in once you open up my head.

ps. i am starting to wonder if my tendency to leave my eyes empty is in any way related to the bonnie tyler video for “total eclipse of the heart.”
turn around
bright eyes
also! in my traveling from mother to crone…it feels like i have gained 20 pounds overnight & my boobs have gotten bigger. so i am feeling extra lumpy & unattractive–which tends to show up in my self-portraits.

needless to say

to avoid having needs
met
i seek out
impossible men
seek out
self-fulfilling prophesies
teaching me to forget
my needs
bury them deep
it is not safe
to
need
close down
after all
you don’t need
anyone
do you?
need leads to want
need leads to betrayal
need leads to pain
how can i open
myself
to need
when i have taught myself
so thoroughly
that need
hurts?

so.
when i was a kid, my parents didn’t meet my needs. they wouldn’t or couldn’t. instead of becoming more needy, i shut down. i decided that if they wouldn’t meet my needs, i wouldn’t have any.
seriously.
if you read in one of my fallen posts about how i was the “good” one–they thought i was good because i never asked for anything.
nothing.
i refused to give them the chance to not meet my needs. i knew they would reject me–so i didn’t give them a chance to.
so so so fucked up.
what kid doesn’t need?
this one.
then of course, i grew into a woman who dated men incapable of meeting my needs.
so.
i didn’t have any. or if i did, i buried them deep until they became a molten core of anger & hate. resenting people for not being who i needed them to be as i refused to admit i had needs.
basically, i suspect everyone is eventually going to reject me, so i never let myself need anyone.

long story short, i am extremely self-reliant and independent…but i am now unable to need anyone–thereby i don’t connect with people on one basic human level.

yay.

working the healing wheel by maeanna welti has been pretty awesome. at each season on the wheel, there is focus on an area to heal. samhain was fear. solstice was needs. i am still working solstice…but looking forward to what i will learn about myself come imbolic.

broken window

i am a stained glass 
window
with a rock thrown
through
i am 
a trampled
orchid
a torn canvas
a half-remembered 
masterpiece
i am irreparably
fantastically
damaged
i am perfectly
damaged
blood stains 
on a white carpet
i will never be
what i once
briefly
could have been
i will be something
even better
more complete
stronger
more interesting
with a story to tell
& a lesson 
learned
the hard way
(thereby easier
to remember.)

i’ve never really looked this closely at “the creation of adam” by michelangelo.
adam is totally, yo–what’s up god?
god should be all–don’t bother to get up adam, it’s just your lord breathing life into you. no, why get up? why put on a pair of pants just for the guy who just gave you the garden of eden?
as adam barely even lifts his arm to finger bump his creator.
also, lucky for me, michelangelo drew adam with plenty of curves so he was easy to translate to my body.
however, adam is surprisingly hairless. so i did have to add body hair.

i like how this one turned out.

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