these texts are an archive of my life in the San Francisco Bay Area from march 2007 - march 2015. it stands as a record of close to a decade of my life, charting the struggles i faced as an artist, daughter, and lover. messy and chaotic at times, eloquent and poetic at others, these texts are an index i am proud of. it was here in this electric box that i learned how to be honest about my experiences and the person i needed to become. it was here that i first learned the truism that words make the world and how to trust such a beautiful, rife, hard fact.

thank you for meeting me here in such tall grass.

my artist website is here.

Feb 20, 2012

poem on the fly

i slip in and out of sorts, in and out of my own dark water, my own black bile, my own vat of nail parings and hair caught in the drain. all of me mixed up so stupidly with wind and words. all of me shining and spinning and needing to spit spit spit the seeds out. i can't think about anything else. the headache remains. the cold pool of anxiety i writhe in. the cold pool of anxiety that has over taken me. the cold pool of anxiety that sloshes inside my stomach, wells up to the top of my head, comes out as tears, and makes it so i can't see.

whatever you do, just don't hurt me unless you absolutely have to.
whatever you do, don't turn away from your own reflection in the mirror.
i can't save a fucking soul other than my own.
i can't tell anyone for sure if i've ever been able to see straight.

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