When my Kalinda peers into his reflection he see’s jagged, ragged parts of a body
Staggered yet separate. -body parts sewn together haphazardly.
The truth is stranger than fiction.
How can it be!
his soul mate doesn’t mirror the effort in his deeds.
ffinger nails claw and pierce at skin -prolong hanging flesh separated from bone
VIP’s seated , assume an opinionated speculation into the art of this self destruct –
The blown up bags come from the baldy eagle, wearing a t-shirt that says ‘corrupt -will sell poison to feed my ego.’
Point in rage to pandora’s obsessive flirtation with suicide.
Maidenhead Hymen annuls her delusional animas.
Make her believe!
it helps her to inhale insecticides.
What is wrong with all that is her?
doesnt she get that her life can be more than a bargain plea?
why does every stonewalled chamber gather breathe from disjointed words,
instead of radiating from true love’s scribbled scribes in blank verse.
Write to recover. Recover to write.
Perform this pantmine on las ramblas , in the hope the days will turn bright.
Supportive cups hold up the excess mounds.
‘damn you look good, healthy, put some weight on’
Must she hear this now? or indeed ever!
It’s too avant garde even for Gaudy.
Face swollen from a sting with an arbitrary drone.
Monthly luna flickers up sheds of decrepit blood clots;
compund that to a portrait that makes her face plump–fits of
dis – ease
stop with the back handed compliments, hun.
Hands hesitate over arms once scrawny, cheek bones sliced inwards.,
She’s rather own her shame and reach every gaze at her in a state of lean chronic thigh gap syndrome
spongy Food floats
-drowns all sign of hope.
enough self loathing to remedy it with a calibre of a gun.
Date with Russian roulette –
6 chance distractions from this body, this mind ,every part called forward into existence.
five rounds until she lands in the seat of a crash test dummy.
Grief , guilt ,
unpleasant to the taste.
fret bursts in beads of sweat – her few will revolt into petulant demonstrations of
Get by on hope and luck and a fine mother hen
A good sized egg , pair of irises that delude her into feeling all her sins have been revoked.
Okay so lately I am mostly talking about embracing ourselves with love and shit. The last couple of days. I have felt less like a Hippocratic student of healing and self love and more like a Hypocrite.
I am not but I feel like one.
My beliefs haven’t changed. I do believe in the content of my posts. I just want to say that I also have shit days when I don’t feel so accepting of my looks and body and the rest of all that is me. I also want validation through superficial social media websites. The last two days have been pretty fucking miserable . Usually exercise, blogging, interacting with blogs,volunteering, working on new projects and finding ways to be positive with one or two of ‘mothers little helpers; help shift the doom and gloom.
Got to give myself a break.
Talk and write the truth. This usually works. Write -freestyle it and post. Don’t check if some one may or may not like what I have to say. Minimum editing. None if possible. Small spell check . Hit the publish button, making sure I have attached all files titled ‘vacuous negative energy’ to it,blast it into the blogospheare -somewhere- all the words unravel and collide with an infinitum of other unread words..
They may or may not get read. Usually people who enjoy jigsaw puzzles get these kind of posts. Guess what? I hate jigsaws!
Bit blunt? Sure?
I guess the whole aim of this post is to free myself -Let it all hang out.
So, yeah. I’ not happy and self accepting all the time . I work at it and I don’t give up. I’m not one dimensional.
I try give Happiness and Self acceptance a secure bosom to lie their heads against.I don’t want doubt , negativity and self hate to nestle it’s way onto my bosom and go
“Oh look tits! We are gonna suck every last drop of Happiness and Self acceptance out of them until they a flaccid, wrinkled and bruised.”
Villainous laughter like “mwhwhwhahahaha” or some other shit. Then they take my head full of shit and slam dunk it. Yes, those three
they will make me think that me accepting myself and being happy can’t happen outside my mind. They will try and repress the independence of my native toungue. They will find a way to make my rediscovered language seem like a myth– folklore…
It never happened.
There were never words such as Happiness and Self acceptance. There was never a language that was not approved by them.
This is why I won’t stop writing empowering posts. Like ‘body image awareness’. Yes, I agree when I try and speak this language,sometimes, I feel like an idiot, a foreigner. I quickly lose my confidence when I pronounce it wrong. Use it in the ‘wrong’ context. Oh how quick my enthusiasm to live freely is so quickly caught up in a net -stenched in mockery and jibes. HOW DARE I ?
DARE OR TRUTH? I DO BOTH.
I fight to be happy -truly happy- no superficial bullshit
I fight to love my body and me- no superficial bullshit
Always keeping it real
Some THINGS we can change by effort
Some THINGS we can’t change
Some THINGS we have to wait a bit until we can change
THREE THINGS I AM GOOD AT
I’M ALWAYS UP FOR A CHALLENGE.
I’M GOOD AT BEING A FRIEND
I’M GOOD AT AT SPEAKING MY MIND
INSPIRATION FOR CELEBRATING BEING UNIQUE………..
DO YOU KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN WHAT YOU CAN CHANGE AND WHAT YOU CAN’T CHANGE ABOUT YOURSELF?
WHAT THREE THINGS ARE YOU GOOD AT?
(All pictures sourced from Google images)