“Mimicking Me” 2020.
I like the way the belt, coincides with the edge of the grass line... mirroring the edge, that halfway mark, the constriction at my waist.
I split there, the top in pose, trying to tame the wild hair.
The bottom finding footing , for what?
For grounding?
For purpose?
Who knows.
I lost. I lose still.
I lose myself in the storm that is me.
Death is so final, and part of me weeps. But the absent is what really gets me at the knees.
Absence never makes my heart grow fonder: It weeps while it seeks-
A place to fill
Gentleness and touch.
And even when I get it,
The Devil called Doubt stamps disapproval-
Abandonment and his ghosts haunts me still.
"It's your fault," I tell myself.
"You were the one that said goodbye."
I said it because I wouldn't know how to live with myself
If they leave me to die.
So I say it first and thank them for good service.
A parting gift: A truth
Before the Destruction devours my insides.
I cannot be friend, I cannot be lover
I cannot be daughter, I cannot be mother.
Is it a dance, or is it torment? You'll only know if you hear the music or if you're under the same spell.
Picking up the pieces
This fragmented experience
Shards of glass and mirror
Not always knowing what is me
Sometimes its channeling, being an open flow for the forgotten ones to find their way through me.
The pressure. The cooker.
The responsibility to be everything else other than me.
“The Seeker” 2020.
“I cannot Be” 2020