stuck like this

i can feel
the broken parts
inside me
clenching into a
fist
determined
not to be
removed
not to be
healed
staking their claim
to my ego
to my
self
a vice-like grasp
on every
thought
that dares to
venture
out
testing the waters
of my personality
today
“you are a useless
&
awful
person,”
they whisper…but
to me
it sounds like
a scream.

okay. so i write these pages as the thoughts tumble through my brain. so the date on the page is the date i wrote it. i illustrate them in the order i write them.
some days i have several thoughts screaming to be heard.
some days my brain is nice & quiet.
it often happens that i have several pages of script before i get an idea for what image should be with each page. usually i am a day or two or even more behind on illustrating my thoughts.
so! it often happens that by the time i illustrate a thought, i have recovered from it. if that makes sense. i mean, this whole ordeal is just a long, drawn-out exorcism.

ta-da.
(in other words–i feel much better now…but this thought is a valid one…the battle inside me. parts of me wanting to heal–other parts fighting it tooth & nail.)

moses jones…episode three page eight

another page! i like how this one turned out. i don’t always like my work (shhh, that will be our little secret) but i really like this page.

(yes, my art is messy–mostly on purpose–but, again, some of the ink stains are actually from my scanner & my seeming inability to clean it)

moses jones episode 3 page 6

here is another page. i am having fun with creating moses jones pages again. judging by audience participation (number of likes & comments) mojo is not nearly as popular as my other creations, but i love her–so i will keep writing her.
plus,
this comic is another way for me to work out my feelings as a mother, as an ex-wife, and as someone who used to live in a dysfunctional intentional community.
it’s kind of like my self-portrait art journal…but a bit more involved.

pages seven, eight, and nine

i’m feeling a bit crappy today.
i didn’t get morning sleep, which is where my good dreams are–the ones that speak to me. and then light bulbs burned out and my camera left out in the rain by a belligerent 11 year old and all i can do is worry about money to replace these things and i don’t have any money and i am so so tired of people treating me like crap….

so here are my latest illustrations.
i like them & i hate them & i just want to go back to bed.

and i have no beer & no coffee
and, again, no money.
poop.

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