Home Is Where My My Mind Rests
I once read an interpretation Of the phrase “I think therefore I Am” That resonated deeply “I think where I am not And I am where I think not”
Can I Come Home?
I was once at home In myself In my loved one’s embrace But life did not want that for me Both in my dark past And Many times over the years
Where Will You Sleep Tonight?
Home You’ll never know what it truly means Until you are without One of your own Years would pass Between losing one space
What Should You Wear According To Your Size?
I worked in styling and costuming creating looks for shoots, film and theatre and constantly was met with the fearful answer of “I can’t wear that” coming from people who were taught to hate their bodies. My ability to pick eye-catching looks stemmed from my youth when I would create elaborate and extravagant ensembles, outfits people assumed I wore because I was confident but primarily they were my armour.
The Weight While I Wait
The weight on my head Pulls down my shoulders Hunched over Low Frantic thoughts Mourning who I was And the loss of my life
Artist Without A Cause
I’ve always had a creative streak and yet after trying on multiple hats, I’m still struggling to find my medium. As a formally gifted child, harnessing both my strong academic skills and nurturing my artistic skills felt urgent, I craved an outlet for everything although I would later discover through becoming self aware that I was just trying to be anything other than me. Harsh situations in childhood led to at age thirteen being hurled into mental health issues and a had a great need to express myself even though the deep sadness left me so devoid of confidence and energy to pursue anything in the way that all great artists do through determination and discipline. As a pure perfectionist, it felt better to not do something rather than be bad at it as most are in their early stages. As an inpatient in a psychiatric hospital at thirteen, another patient gave me a copy of Elizabeth Wurtzel’s ‘Prozac Nation’, a book I came to call my quiet revolution. Little did I know how much my life would come to mirror hers, with the exception of after twenty five years of being on the couch I’ve never come close to remission. In the book she talked of the tyranny of unfulfilled potential, to be capable and at times full of promise, and yet to not have it realized leading to a deep chasm full of lows and emptiness.
Kay was positively THE most beautiful woman I had the pleasure of laying eyes upon. Waist long purple hair framed a pallid angelic face. Eyes like dark flames were accentuated by elegant high cheek bones, and strategically placed piercings highlighted sensuous lips. Curling black tattoos covered her graceful arms and her legs seemed to stretch on for an eternity. She only ever wore clothes that showed off her features, her tucked in waist, curvy hips, and her breasts. There was always just enough fishnet clad legs and bare back revealed to drive those of us who appreciated her looks crazy with lust. What she was doing in the hell-hole that was our city's only Goth club was beyond me. Sometimes I felt maybe she was thinking the same thing as her face was permanently frozen in a look of disclaim. Understandable in the midst of a crowd that sneered at others and a cloud of bitchiness and superiority complexes hovered over those in the dingy room.
The Love That Lies Beneath
He watched his wife’s decline into illness over the years with a great sadness. Gone was the bright-eyed woman, full of drive and enthusiasm, their life once spontaneous now a regimented schedule of medication and her rest times. For years the doctors said there’s nothing wrong although they both knew she was ill, her body and mind in complete collapse. Her slow slip into disability these last few months seemed to accelerate, her skin grey, deep black circles surrounding her concaving eyes, her weight falling off as her body wasted away. She needed help she was being refused, his frustration growing by the day and then erupting in the instant their lives changed. BANG! The abscess that had been poisoning her burst and so did every way of living they knew.