poisonous

my words are poison
& as much as i would love
to spit them at you
you will not understand my pain
you will not wither
& die
you will use my poison against me
you will use my poison to make your own
my thoughts are poison
but where can i put them
what can i do with this pain
how can i get it out of me
can i use my destructive urges as compost
to grow something beautiful & beneficial
can i find my meaning somewhere else
find my salvation somewhere else
grow without cutting everyone down
i have four children
but i am not a mother
how can i be
with all of this poison in me
i have to
have to find my meaning elsewhere
find my salvation elsewhere.

this is directed at my ex. i often find myself wanting to make him hurt the way he has hurt me…but i know from experience that that will not work & i will just end up hurting myself even more.
i was in a lot of pain for the birthdays of my oldest & youngest (one day after another) as my soul remembered the different pains of the experience of becoming a mother for the first time with an unreliable partner…& for the last time with that same partner.
the pain did lift…but it was intense while it lasted.
this incoherent vomiting of verse was my attempt to make sense of what i was feeling.

keeping safe the pain

give your pain
to me
i will keep it
safe
i know how important
pain is.

this is another one where i inked first & wrote after (rather than my usual routine of writing & then inking.) it took me a day or two before i found the words. i thought this thought after reading another novel & finding myself lost in the story, feeling the feelings of the characters to such a degree that sometimes i have to set the book down & walk away from it.

inside me

to say the ex & i have communication problems is an understatement.
but i find like i feel like i’m being buried alive when i try & try & try to communicate–& the other party only hears what they want to hear.
i don’t know what to do.
do i give up?
or do i keep screaming?

backwards

i keep an art journal to sort through all of my thoughts & feelings.
my art journals have saved my life.
i share them just in case they might let someone else know they are not alone.

i had a really bad day a couple of days ago. i am thinking, one step forward–two steps back??

my mother

almost one year exactly
after the death of my father
i found out
about the death of my mother
though she had been dead
almost
two months…
now i am
an overgrown
orphan.

moses jones page six

my tarot reading last night indicated that i am ready for a new relationship…but am still heavily influenced by what happened in my relationship with dusty….
my art/comic concurs.
the dusty effect on my heart….

anti-versaries

ah crap. it’s september…such a wonderful month for fall smells & sights…and the anti-versary of
meeting my first big love/heartbreak/betrayal
marrying my first husband
& meeting my last big love/heartbreak/betrayal

no wonder i feel like a big bag of hopelessly crappy crap.

fuck you, september
(please stop being hot now & at least give me some 70 degree weather)

image from an art class…moses jones as an archangel, slaughtering dusy–or, you know, the devil.

anti-versaries….

fifteen years ago
i married the man i thought i would be with
forever
i thought i had done my time
suffered my losses
dug my way back up from hell
& now i was being rewarded
we had a picnic wedding
we had a slip & slide
& a dunk tank
we wore flip flops
made up our vows
and promised to always
always & forever
be there for the other.
what happened?
what went wrong?
like every other event in my life
i have analized
& apologized
& tried to puzzle it out
but i guess i never actually made it out of hell
i was just on a new layer
of fresh pain.

that’s not me

love
loss
lost
delusion
infusion
confusion
the most i have is
what i already
gave.
i’m empty now.
please
go
away.

it’s not me…but it is me. it’s not a self-portrait…but it’s still me. i was drawing this & writing this while having a fight with dusty. one of those spiral fights that i try to leave & then get sucked back in & we just go around & around.

i really enjoyed drawing her and kept catching myself smiling (i do the expression as i draw it–i’m one of those people.) then i worried dusty would freak out because i was smiling to myself while fighting with him.

i never got a chance to recover from my parents’ visit because as soon as they were gone, dusty went from being mr. charming & helpful to being mr. self-fulfilling prophecy. he likes to anticipate that i am going to reject him and then do everything in his power to get me to reject him. and then he gets pissed off & self-righteous about it.

yay.

so i packed him in a truck & shipped him back to wisconsin.

maybe now i can recover?

nope…now the minions are on full blast needy.

yay.

death of a turkey…

when i was a kid
there was so much violence
so much abuse
so much animal death
my pets gone–just like that
that i learned to disconnect
to stop loving
to stop caring
to stop bonding
and as an adult this continued
this disconnect
i had trouble with relationships
sure that they would leave
or god forbid they had self-destructive tendencies
it was too much for me
i disconnected
i could not bond
and i would try to have pets as an adult
but it was easier to hate them then to love them
love is a fragile thing
so easily killed
i was repulsed by neediness…repulsed by being needed
i closed down
shut off
i often wondered if i could ever even have kids?
was i capable of love at all?
sometimes i still wonder….

shortly after the above picture was taken, a raccoon killed one of my turkeys and injured the leg of another. i named the injured turkey isabeau and took her into my house. i dressed her wound, fed her blue berries and honey and put apple cider vinegar in her water and bathed her when she got too stinky.
months went on. spring turned to summer. her leg healed, but she stopped walking. her non-injured leg became palsied. one wing became disfigured by her always laying on the same side. i would try to put her on her other side–or in a sling–but nothing seemed to help.
and while her brothers & sisters grew huge and mature

she remained frozen in her juvenile state, a third the size of them.

i felt myself turn off. i mean, i cannot pinpoint the exact moment, but it happened. i started being annoyed by her. frustrated with her. dreaming at night that she finally got up and walked again, while watching every day as she just kind of flopped around. i admired her perseverance…but in the end, she just gave up.

i just wish i hadn’t given up first.

i thought i would be relieved when she died. she had become a burden…a difficulty…one more thing to take care of on a busy day. i mean, i knew she would die eventually. there was no way she could continue on like that–what if she tried to lay an egg–that alone would kill her–painfully. she was so vulnerable….
and now she is no longer suffering….

so why do i feel like i failed her? because my heart shut down? because i could no longer muster the energy to care about her even though i was still caring for her?

i don’t like that i learned to shut down when there was danger of pain by abandonment (be it death or whatever.) i want to feel the pain & live through it. i want my heart to warm back up and not be so quick to disappear.

i cried today. i did not expect to cry over my dead turkey.
but, like most mourners, i am not crying for her…i am crying for me.
as i try to assure my kids we did everything we could for her…in my cold heart i feel as if i should have done more…i wish i were capable of having done more.

 

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