no more fairy dust for you

he would
airbrush his soul
if he could
smooth out
the rough parts
cover up
the mistakes
as if they never
happened
he is trying so hard
to look like
he isn’t
trying
at all
wearing a
“100% natural”
label
so you think
it’s all good
but
narcissism
is natural
apathy
is natural
assholery
is natural
especially
for him.

i had to stop following my ex on instagram because i found myself wanting to punch him in the face–which–if you think about it, is preferable to wanting to get back together with him.
do you ever look back
to the not-so-distant past and think of yourself,
“i don’t even know you, dude.”
like how can my brain swing to such extremes. and who is the dominant personality?
okay, that’s all fodder for another page.
suffice to say, my exes all suck. all of them. no exceptions, not anymore.

seems i have a serious tendency to fall for guys with a peter pan complex. i might have to re-think that. they just use my fairy dust so they can fly & then run off with wendy…motherfuckers.

i think i’m getting the hang of the bamboo pen. i have a lot of fun with it. not so great for details & can get messy, but i’ve never really been a details kinda gal…& i like messy.

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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.

fuck it, i am so a disney princess

oh my god
look how happy
elsa is
when she sets herself
free
to be
who she is meant
to be
let your hair down
& shimmy
yes
shimmy
elsa
as you
let it go
let it go
oh my god
how right you are
elsa
i need to embrace
my power
let go of the past
& sing
from the mountain tops
with all
my
might.

i will take my epiphanies where ever i find them. where ever i can find them.
& i can actually shoot daggers of ice at people who piss me off…or at least, metaphorically speaking i can so do that.

my seven year old was watching the “let it go” video from frozen on youtube over & over again last night as i pranced around the kitchen singing at the top of my lungs. it annoyed the crap out of my sons, but i felt wonderful. watching that princess figure out who she really is & what she is capable of, was seriously liberating. i know it sounds goofy–i am not at all a fan of disney & princesses…but elsa is something else.

(i’m going to go ahead & say i pulled off being a flapper better than my attempt at being a disney princess. see–there’s a reason i never wear evening gowns & heels)

flying leaves & falling birds

i am so in love
with this time
of the year
when i cannot tell
if the leaves are falling
or the birds are flying
because the trees
are so full of both
fluttering birds
beautiful decay
the trees
wishing well
to both as they let go
i need to
let go
as the days
grow short & gloomy
the nights
grow clear & crispy
i breathe
easy
it is time to rest
no one
expects
anymore
i can let myself
breathe
all
is
quiet.

sometimes my “poems” change when i move them from script to text. sometimes they don’t, but sometimes they do. the art journal page is a rough draft. i sometimes make a final draft…sometimes i don’t. these pages are thoughts & possibilities for something more. experiments. works in progress.
like me.

INKtober thirty-first

i hand my heart
to you
you
carelessly
drop it
in a corner
i hand my bruised heart
to you
you
break it
without
a second thought
i had my broken heart
to you
you
leave it
in tatters
forgotten
i hand my tattered heart
to you…
stop
back up
i hold my own heart
my own
tattered
broken
bruised
heart
& wonder…
what the fuck
do i
expect?

the difference between want & need

this is the day
mark it on your calender
this is the day
you no longer need
a relationship
to feel complete
to feel a purpose
a relationship
is like the beer in your fridge
you enjoy them
in healthy amounts
they leave you empty
if abused
you crave them sometimes
you think you can’t get through
the day
without them
sometimes…
but you can.
this is the day
you know that
know it to be true
being drunk on love
is no longer
a healthy option

keep a clear head
today is not the day
to lose yourself
today is the day
you find yourself.

while i am not giving up beer nor relationships, i am recognizing that i do not need either one in my life in order to make it through a day, week, month….
sixteen years ago today, i had my first date with dusty. at the suggestion of my soul sister, tara, i am changing the significance of today’s date.
today i stand tall & whether i have a beer later…or go on a date eventually…i know that i do not need to.

i keep ending up with flower heads. i’m not sure what is going on there. as always, y’all are welcome to analyze my art & let me know what is going on.

without fail, after i have posted art here, on tumblr, & on instagram, i realize i once again forgot to clean off my scanner & there is a stray hair or an ink smudge or both on my scanned artwork…fine…let’s just think of it as my copyright/watermark. 

being present

it’s like
all of a sudden
(after 30 years of work)
i have found my way
to the present
i’m not waiting
for today to end
so tomorrow can be
a better day
i’m not tormenting myself
with the past
i’m here
noticing
letting go
living
i have spent so much
of my life
haunted
but my ghosts are leaving me now
i am no longer
a good habitat
for bad memories.

grow

the last illusion
shattered
those straws you were grasping
have left you
empty
you are a husk
an emptiness
& all you can do now is
grow
up
& stronger
& towards the light
grow.

thank you to vincent van gogh for inspiration/material for this self-portrait. we probably would have made each other miserable, but i would have been better off loving him. i do like the gingers.

emje’s world

i really don’t understand
like a sick
like a suffering animal
could you just tell me to
stop?
put me out of my misery?
if you want me to
stop
you should know
with the life i’ve had
i only thrive
on rejection
on being ignored
i only try
harder
to be seen
when you look
away
please
just say “stop”
if you want me to
stop
otherwise
i will never
give up
on you.

i often examine my behavior towards seymour and wonder if i am harassing him. if i were a man, and he were a woman, i think it would definitely be considered harassment. i don’t believe in double standards…yet…one of my therapists assured me that it is different for men than it is for women. i mean, a woman might play along and not say stop because she is afraid. she stokes an ego for her own safety.
but why doesn’t seymour just tell me to stop?
i would. i know i would.
it would hurt and i would want to keep reaching out to him–but if i knew for sure he wanted me all the way out of his life, i would respect that.
but he never says it.
granted, he never says anything.
and like i said in my journal page, being ignored is not a deterrent for me. it’s just a signal for me to try harder.
thanks to my fucked-up childhood with parents who ignored me pretty consistently. thanks to always being attracted to people who ignored me in relationships.
thanks to growing up as a sensitive wallflower.
being ignored is just part of life.
i don’t want to be ignored…but being ignored is its own attention. seriously. when you make an effort to ignore someone, you are–in a weird & fucked up way–paying attention to them.
let me stress, fucked up way.

i want to ask him.
i want to know.
but part of me is scared of the answer.

ps. i drew a naked version of this painting “christina’s world” because when i drew a version with clothes on, it looked like i had crawled right out of a japanese horror movie. so i did me naked (again) so that i could maybe try to get the position to look natural. however, i neglected to get my back fat in there right. i tried to be true to my back fat, but i don’t think i quite captured it.

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