invisible threads

maybe he still holds me
with
invisible threads
cords woven
into my heart
maybe he still keeps me
in a prison
with no bars
i think i am free
but somehow
i am not…
how many times
have i left him
but maybe
he still holds
me
after all
in his
refusing to let me
go
he pounds another nail
into my coffin
telling himself
he is keeping me
safe.

as i was driving, monday, to take the minions to meet their dad, i glimpsed another passenger in my car when i glanced to the rear view mirror.
shortly after, i drove past a cemetery with a fresh grave.
i wondered, will their father be there, at the meeting place?
or am i finally free?
i was sure that my ex-husband had died.

however, as we now know, it was my father who had died, not theirs.

i thought that if my ex-husband had died, i would be a little sad. i mean, my kids would lose their dad…but i would also feel…
free.
kinda the way i felt when i found out it was in fact my father who had died.

on retrospect, i guess i shouldn’t be surprised that i got the energy of my dead dad mixed up with the energy of my ex-husband…i mean, there is a reason i often choose charming narcissistic assholes to be with.

& what i wonder now is…can’t i be free without anyone else having to die? how do i break the binds that he keeps me tied with? because i truly believe that his not letting me go is stopping me from being truly free of him.

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my egg tooth

it has taken me
a lifetime
of butting my head
against walls
to finally
grow
my egg tooth
which erupts now
in all it’s glory
a narwhal
tusk
miracle
jutting from my
smile
as i plot
my escape
my
own
rescue.

okay. i really like this idea.
however i needed to argue with fidgit about whether or not mermaids have gills.
he says because they have boobs (indicating mammal-hood) they must not have gills.
i say that there is no way they could live in underground kingdoms without having gills and that maybe the boobs are ornamental. i do not remember ever seeing a mermaid breastfeed…but maybe their culture is as stupid about that as ours is and mermaids are forced to breastfeed in secret….
nevertheless!
i really like my words.
the picture might need work.

in other precocious kids news, poppy (who is a bit of an ass man) was shouting into my bottom while i was doing dishes, then assuring me the sound would come out my nose.
i thought it was hysterical.
i apologize to future romantic partners of my children.

and now misha is asking for a picture of her as a mermaid. i should have seen that coming.

a lightening

it is a release
a relief
a fucking
lightening
who knew how heavy
i was
holding him in
my heart
my penance
my sisyphean love
i’m free
broken free
of the cage
i’d built
myself.

 

smoke in the air

he lures me outside with a cigarette
he wants “to talk”
he always wants “to talk”
except when it mattered
years & years ago
& years not so long ago
when i tried
& tried & tried & tried
to get him to talk to me….
he’s leaving again
i’m making him leave
again
& he is sad
& i try not to let his sad seep into my soul…
once the talk is done
(for now)
we come back inside
& as i remove my coat
the necklace that he gave me for a birthday long ago
falls
falls from its place around my neck
a broken cord
…how much more symbolic can you get?

this self-portrait got away from me. i ended up looking like my mom…again. or tom waits…and what the fuck is up with the coloring?

with all of these journal pages, i think i will re-do them as a finished piece…one day…if i like them enough.

maybe then this one won’t look the way i feel inside.

(or is that a good thing–art wise?)

while doing this, i also did a collaboration with misha who wanted me to paint the hand she had drawn. i like the way this one turned out. i think we should print it up and sell it. misha can do all the sales though–she may not speak coherently, but she has oodles of personality & charisma…probably inherited from her dad ūüė¶

collaborationwithclementine

wrong way

as i was loading up the inkstain for this inking, i saw several different figures i did not see when i did this drawing. i kind of want to go back & do it with what i see in the ink now. that’s what i get for working while watching doctor who while minions crawl all over me.

wrongway1

i dunno. i’m not sure i like this one. i’m not sure what it is about. if it is about anything. are my pictures really ever about anything? or are they about everything? i draw what i see & what i feel.

but overall, i really do like my work. i really do. i was looking to see what it would look like on t-shirts & mugs…on leggings. i think my ink would be cool on leggings.

and, of course, it would look nice hanging on walls. i have mine hanging all around me. my favorites…or ones with elements that i want to use more. inspirations.

also! my nephews read my¬†moses jones zines & now want to be part of the story. i was like, “what the hell…i can do that.” maybe that’s how i can make money. write personal graphic novels for people. ha! let people star in their own comic.

it didn’t work out so well for my exhusband #2. he wanted to be in moses jones, and that is how dusty was born. i didn’t plan to make him into a “bad guy” or “dead-beat dad” (as one comic review labeled him.) i wrote & drew what i felt, and it turned my ex into dusty knickers.

he will never forgive me for it, either.
oh well.

how is that going, you ask?
great!
though i am still struggling with doing it all on my own, i have not once regretted asking him to leave. i do not want him back. he wheedles and manipulates and tries to wiggle back in, but i am so tough i won’t even go to eat culver’s with him. yes. you heard me. i turn down free culver’s so that i do not have to interact with my ex. that, my friends, is a strength i have not felt in years.
so
yay for me.

sleepover

i found something to do with my anger.
i was striking out at everyone i cared about, seemingly without remorse. well, there was remorse, but i tucked it away.
i was getting uglier and uglier.
then it occurred to me, that i could use this absence of remorse to stand up to the person i never have the absence of feelings to assert myself to.
if that makes sense.
in my head, i am always telling him i want him to leave, but in reality i only say it during fights. then he dismisses it as soon as the fight is over.
so today, knowing my heart was cold
i told him not to come back.
you know what a cunt i am? he is in wisconsin for the death of his grandma. i took that opportunity to tell him not to come back.
that’s how cold, hateful, frozen and dark my heart was today.
i told him, “there is no good time to do this. there just isn’t.”
and that is true. but it doesn’t make me think i am being something of a cunt by kicking him out right after his grandma died.
but the thing is.
this horrible depression started as soon as he left for wisconsin. this horrible hateful madness. which is weird–usually i am happy when he goes.
but i realized i was depressed because i knew he would come back.
that he would come back.
that he would be back in my home.
tormenting me.
that i would be right back stuck in a terrible situation
of his living here and refusing to leave.
fuck me.
i felt better after i told him not to come back.
i felt better after standing up for myself.
even if it does make me a cunt.
i stood up for myself.
i said the words i have been thinking for months now.
god,
what a fucking relief.

i don’t feel good about it,
but i’m glad it’s over.

this is from an ink splatter i did
a few days ago
when i was feeling this terrible energy.
you can tell,
the ink is pretty agitated.

inkstainsleepover

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