little bits of me

i have determined that i am
unable
unwilling
to sell myself
henceforth
you can have my pretty pictures
i merely ask
you give me what you believe
a piece of my soul
is worth

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my heart is a monkey baby

everything
i have done
anything
i have accomplished
i have done so
in a vacuum
so to speak
my life is that experiment
i am that monkey baby
clinging to a wire surrogate
left without nurturing
from the world around
& yet
despite the lack of praise
in spite of that lack of attention
i….
well
i can’t say i “thrive”
but i survive
i keep alive
the me
inside
of me

i am exploring the fact that i have never really received any encouragement in light of my recent frustration with not ever getting much or any encouragement. my parents gave me way more discouragement than encouragement. i was an honor student and won awards in art, writing, and speech…but they never seemed to notice. i did it because it was who i was…not for anyone’s accolades.

just like my current art & writings. i do it because it is part of me–not to some day have a blockbuster film adapted from one of my works.

i am calling this “my van gogh stage” because he created–in great volume–despite only selling one piece of art in his lifetime.
also, his use of the self-portrait to express himself.
however, as with my sylvia plath phase, i will be avoiding the ultimate outcome.

no wonder

i still wonder
but i no longer
hope
i no longer believe
i look for authenticity
i find…
nothing
people chock full of
nothing.

i probably expect too much of people. okay. i know i expect too much of people…and i have always hoped to prove myself wrong–i mean, that people weren’t phony.
why does everyone seem so phony?
is it social media? i mean, do i now have access to more people; therefore, i see more of the falseness of people? or is it just that people are false by nature?

or maybe i’m just jaded.

okay–back to my hiding place!

healing

i don’t believe in physical ailments
i always suspect
nausea
headaches
pulled muscles
the flu
warts, even
of being disgruntled messages
from my self-conscious

i once had a horrible, terrible, no-good, very bad boyfriend whom i had trouble leaving. i got sick with a cold that lasted over a month.
i once was in a relationship that was not a relationship although i had not been told by the one i thought was my boyfriend, and i started sleepwalking.
with dusty, dear dear dusty, i got plantar warts that live far longer than a plantar wart should live and are actually colonizing my right foot. i have tried every remedy, and every remedy has failed. i will know i have learned my lesson, when those warts go away.

i pulled a muscle in my back almost two weeks ago. i was way too vigorously digging yams. so many yams! like almost a hundred pounds? no joke. if nothing else, we will have enough yams to last us all winter.
however!
i yernked a muscle.
and being me, i ignored it and went on with my life. building a small hoop house, pushing a dead tractor, wrestling goats, lifting small children, balancing my whole world in one hand while doing everything else with the other hand.
several days later, i was in excruciating pain.
my back was all, “i am outta here.”

so who do i call for help? three guesses…fuck. i call dusty. and as soon as he gets here i know what a mistake i have made.
so now i am irritated. frustrated. bitter.

and my back still hurts like fuck.

what is the lesson here?
(please, seriously, besides actually doing yoga and taking better care of myself…what? does that include my self-self? not just my physical self? i’m supposed to take care of my whole for real-real self? that’s it, isn’t it? well, crap….)

i look for messages everywhere…because they are there.

strangers love me best

strangers love me better
than my friends do
strangers offer me smiles
unsolicited help
friends
look away
don’t make eye contact
walk away slowly
“it was good to see you”
“maybe next year”
as my tears are not worth
the salt
& my cries
are never heard
because
no one
was listening

 

shattered

wanting so badly to matter
to be noticed
wanting so badly
to be loved
all that happens is i fall prey to those
who would use my supreme loneliness against me
the narcissists
& sociopaths
to whom i am just a toy for their amusement
my pain
just a game to them
& i fall for it
shattered
in my believing
flattering words
hiding
cruel hearts