Blog Archives

Lynx Fur coat


My French Grandmother, who (at the time)  had the last stages of vascular Dementia lived in a different time to me.

Before my existence ,  a couple of generations  before mine, my Grandpa, bought a gift for my Grandma. I was told she had the coat made for her  in Vienna.

  I have a confession to make ,  I am so (so) ashamed.

It’s no ordinary coat,it has her initials engraved on the inside (lynx fur.I’ve seen Kate Moss wear  something similar).

For my 27th Birthday my Grandma gave me her coat. It didn’t fit her any more (& she loved me –of course).

I ignored my guilt,played the  ignorant person  when I wore it  ( in hypothermic temperatures in the U.K.) with  hesitant pride. It kept out the cold off my bones,it was soft and beautiful.

I own a lynx fur coat. (cue: Gasp, shock & horror).

Now before  you all judge me with sentiments such as:

“Burn it ,Daisy , burn it. Sell it or whatever.. Just get rid, girlfriend cos if you don’t,see this?  You and me? We are done. And I mean done .”

Try to  understand that this is something sentimental  (an heirloom) that my grandma gave me before she got ill and passed away from Vascular Dementia & Alzeihemers.

I live with this secret. Erm, not any longer….

I don’t wear it these days.

It makes me  feel like a hypocrite.

My Mom has  kept it.

She didn’t  want me to get rid of it while my grandma was still alive.

So, this is my shameful secret.

Last time  I looked at it, I put it on, and I felt like Hannibal.

Images of torture came to the forefront of my mind  of what happened to this animal.

How to end this post?

It’s not easy (or even affordable) to just switch over your whole lifestyle /ethics/family traditions etc.. to not eating or wearing anything that hasn’t had an animal involved in the process in some way.

The truth is

I frittered my wedding money away (a couple of years ago) working for a non animal tested and environmental friendly business that sold products from A-Z

I ended up buying most of the products (and it led to nada profit for me)

It was expensive.It cost me an income. It alleviated my consciousness.

I stopped eating sweets  (Haribos)because I knew that they had gelatin in them, and that derives from animal fat.

Who needs motivation for going on a diet?

(You now have one )

We can’t get it right all the time. .

 We can  become  more aware about where our consumables  come from, who suffers & power ourselves up with knowledge (as shocking and awful as it is).

I’m not saying be   ‘overzealous ‘,  however,the first step to fighting this massive topic of animal abuse in all its forms -is to become conscious & then to act.

Being conscious leads to decision making  and any action you do that comes from a good place in your heart or mind is a good start.

One final thought before I wrap this up.

I recall a time  I woke up to the salacious smell of   grilling bacon – thanks husband for the temptation.

I nearly threw up. The smell was rank.  He thought I was going all ‘Johnny Drama’ (Entourage) on him but, honestly it made me feel sick to the point I ran out of that kitchen.

I DON’T WANT TO EAT SOMETHING OR SOMEBODY JUST LIKE ME.

SHAON THGHILP

Is mortal love the true sin of the man opposed to the laudable man blinded by a paradise of perfection?

With  blood on our hands

 With  bare footed callousness

 We walk  over the corpses of our ancestors.

The biblical story of Noah is the parable of the modern day humanitarian plight.

We will return to the second day of creation fighting with sticks and stones

As prophesied by another mere mortal

As prophesied by another mere mortal sapian in well versed archaic rhetoric…

Musings of today



Hey,Nina

“The worst thing about that kind of prejudice… is that while you feel hurt and angry and all the rest of it, it feeds you self-doubt. You start thinking, perhaps I am not good enough” -NINA SIMONE –

I never knew why I connected so much with this woman’s voice and songs so much, until now.

We seemingly have nothing in common- she was a trained classical pianist, jazz and soul singer, and a proud African  American lady, actively a  part of the  American civil rights movement.

She hung out with Martin Luther King! She was born in the 1930’s.

I , on the other hand, was born and grew up in South Africa. I am white. I was born in the early 1980s when the apartheid regime was crumbling.

 

Recently, I watched a documentary about her life on Netflix and I identified with this  wild spirit within her.  A spirit demanding justice. She was a  person who had a name but couldn’t truly own it.

There is a song she sings  – AINT GOT NO -I GOT LIFE (she is simply mesmerising to watch)

 

The song ends with her singing

“I am my freedom. I got my freedom.”

That is my connection to her.  For a long time I wasn’t accepted,I may well have been another skin colour.

In fact-  in post-apartheid. -early 90’s -I spent most of my teens taking drugs with the colored or black  and Indian community ( they identify themselves with these terms in South Africa btw ) and spending less  time with white people.

At various points in Nina’s life she felt like she had lost her mind.

 

I nearly became mad.

In fact I am sure I did.

Many times.

I   nearly died -countless times  too.

I was forced out of South Africa because my mother couldn’t stand by and watch me die.

It took 17 years to get  to the person I am today.

 

I should be dead.  I guess life has bigger plans for me.  It is not for lack of me trying every possible way to kill myself by my hand or another’s..

I have always wanted my freedom to be me in my body  and mind and be comfortable in it.

In my search for Freedom I even became like some feral creature to get it.  I  could say I only imitated what I saw other people do.

It’s strange how other people are quick to judge. They don’t seem to see that they do the same things to cope.

 Oh,how they just took .

Boys

Girls

Men

Women

People just took  from me what was useful to them  and discarded me like a used condom. Making sure there was no evidence to be found that linked them with the theft of my own creativity and soul.

People took a lot from Nina – she left the U.S.A. for many years to find her mind and peace.

One of my favourite sayings I always tend to tell people is

“I’m a person with good intentions”

“My actions and heart come from a good place .”

I think I must have picked it up from the lyrics in the song  ‘DON’T LET ME BE MISUNDERSTOOD

“I’m just a soul whose intentions are good – Oh lord please don’t let me be misunderstood”

I’ve often  felt misunderstood.

 I have made one hell of a journey.

So these days if someone misunderstands what I say, I have to pretty much cut them off and be direct and tell them  that they have misunderstood or not heard or misinterpreted what I am saying .

 

To have a soul, you have to be free.

Completely free of your mind and body -you mustn’t covert away any part of you , you must reveal your soul to the entire world.

People will either get you or they won’t but that becomes their problem not mine or yours.

There must be no shame in revealing your soul to the world.

Your story.

Your journey.

Nina  was diagnosed with Bipolar in the 80’s  and I guess she felt displaced.

Bipolar,huh ?

Displaced ?

Now I know that world well.

 

I felt displaced in so many situations in my life. I did actually do something  Nina did  (at a point in her life)-

I  turned inwards on myself.

I couldn’t win the political game of  “normal” social life.   I never fit in one social group or culture.

I stood out for all to see.

I didn’t fit. Yet, I felt comfortable in more than one place or with one type of people simultaneously.

I didn’t want to have to choose just one set of people to be around. I tried to conform but my soul rebelled

I struggled when I was growing up.

Not being able to fit into one box  came with high levels  of recklessness on my part. I  was probably the first person in my social group who displayed crazy- off her head signs.

It was awful because I was only 13-17 years old.

You could be a certain type of crazy but not my kind of crazy.

People backed up the fuck away…

Never mind that later many of my peers would have had more life experience and with that , they had gained a few extra pounds of  experiencing the not so great hand life deals us at times.

There would come a time when many I knew would have  to deal with  whatever  it decides to throw at you. Whenever it chooses to do so.

 Maybe a few of them went

“Oh,now I get it.”

I took on adult responsibilities from a young age.

I didn’t  fucking want them.

So it then  became a political inquest into my soul…

My soul fled from me – leaped out of my heart, got lost in my head , ran- in search of the nearest exit.

It found that exit in a secret tunnel at the furthest part of my unconscious.   It did a backflip out and  over the balcony of my  mind, landed on its feet and made for the ocean.

It went into hiding , to the deepest part of the ocean. A place it knew it could surrender to without protest. It could go with the current and not be examined for doing something as natural as just being its nature and of nature.

 

I searched to reclaim mine back  for years.

Soul can’t be questioned, it must be  felt.

Nina felt stigma,

I felt stigma,

Many feel stigma.

She connected to so many because  she wasn’t afraid to share her humanness and be her and speak up for ‘her kind’.

She inspires me to carry on  speaking out for people who still suffer inequality with their mental health issues. I will never stop using my voice and writing to break down stigma and prejudice and ignorance.

There are four songs I want to  share that she sang.

 The only way she knew how to help change and shape the world she lived in -was to get political with her music. It killed her singing  career and nearly killed her.

I can’t help but see Nina as such a positive role model for all genders, race, sexuality, age and faiths.



Living up to my G.O.A.T.

The ultimate party girl. I was that girl who could drink bourbon all night and into the morning – all-day-long. Got any E’s or some Bolivian marching powder?  you were speaking my language. I never knew when to stop. It all started at the ripe old age of   12 years old. The rave scene was at its peak.  Drugs were strong  (not cut with loads of rat poisoning or other shit) and people hardly drank alcohol. We all loved one another and each other. You always found a friend at every underground Rave and every club you went to.

In my home town in South Africa, Saturday night was a party on the rooftops till 7 am, then it was time to hit ‘Church’ with more drugs and new best friends and do the blitz until you literally dropped or the drugs ran out.Then it was time to for a gentle come down, usually at the top of a hill,in a cemetery, with jaw-dropping views.  The Ganja would come out and the silence of being in nature would occasionally be interrupted by easy-going laughter and ‘campfire-like’ stories buzzing about.

Sounds awesome, right? Well,  it was for a bit…

Being an extremist  -no grey areas sort of ‘gal, it led me down a different path altogether. You see, I didn’t know it then but I wanted to get mashed up properly because I hated myself . I had no self -respect, no hope, no vision nor ambition. From a young age, I self-harmed. At 5 years old I already had eating issues.  Most people I have encountered in my life- bar the bastards and bitches (mind you even them at one point said something similar)  told me I was an all-rounder: smart, privileged, loved, beautiful, charismatic, vulnerable yet wilful.

Did I stop to take in all these compliments that my older self now craves for?

Hell no!

I kind of distanced myself away from my true friends. The ones I had known since I was 7 years old. I decided to take on other people’s judgements of what I thought they believed about me, and internalised that and began self-harming at a ferocious speed, I began to feel like the scapegoat and target for my supposed best friends jokes.

 Someone has to become the target, None of them was going to come forward willingly.  I went through a stage of overeating and when I started going the other way and stopped eating I obviously lost a lot of weight. Suddenly, guy friends were flirting with me and my girl-friends started berating me.  Eventually, I got pushed out of the clique for good -part self -blame and part snotty insecure teenage friends to blame.  I didn’t need their petty shit.

 I became a shaker and a roller. I did an impressive gamble with my life right up until my 30’s. I got hooked on Crack, Mandrax, Coke, and Pills. being skinny, overdosing and cutting myself.  You name it. My friend circle became drug dealers,  hardcore- addicts and people I met whilst hitchhiking to go buy my drugs. Oh yeah, an asylum of perverted old men who tried to abuse me or wanted to turn me into dollar/ pound signs, for their own gain of course.

 At the ‘mature’ age of 17 years old I didn’t exactly go willingly to live in France or the U.K.

Nobody and no-one could handle me. I was etching closer and closer into the dark tunnel- sans- bright white light and a myriad of angels. I couldn’t keep the food down. My bones ached from all the crap in the drugs that I smoked and took. I couldn’t face anyone except my drug dealers. I wouldn’t leave the house at all. My mood went up and down, I was put on prescription pills. Doctors decided I was a head case and I gained a  bunch of labels -brand genes that I didn’t particularly want to wear.

When my Grandpa passed away from cancer, I moved from France back to the U.K. and I calmed down a bit. I started working but people with ‘issues’ were drawn to me. I guess I aimlessly found what I was looking for. Was it a friend? a boyfriend? crazy and magical life experiences?  Oh, I had all those in the palm of my hand but the drugs and the self- starvation always gripped me first.

 I don’t think anyone ever thought I would not be a party girl until I had to rip the crown off my head and begrudgingly let some other younger, prettier and more popular girls pick up from where I haggardly turned off and tuned out from that world completely.

 Some say that life is a destination  but I see my life as being more of a  journey and I can’t say I would change anything.  These days the road more travelled: is with my true self. I love myself, respect myself and I have learnt a lot about people, the world and myself. I am still learning and never want to stop.

I love what I do with my life now! 

 A daughter to look after? Never in a million years was I going to catch out until I did of course. I don’t regret my daughter.

Get married? oh please. I’m far too contrary and I have to do the opposite of what society expected of me. Some say I have ‘grown-up’. I hate this term. I prefer to say, I have released my true inner soul into the world and everything I now believe in and want is coming to me. I don’t have the same people drawn to me as when I was ‘the party girl of many seasons’. I’m calmer. I sometimes think I’m bloody boring to be honest but it’s cool.

I still get to dance to Rave music in my living room – it’s great music to exercise to. I still have my passion for a variety of music and although I missed my chance to become a professional street dancer. I have found another way to help fill the dream chalice. I want to travel more and make friends with people who want to be around me because of me, and not for what I can give them i.e. money when I have/had it or other superficial bullshit.

I have ‘broken through’ to the other side( maybe not in the way old Jim Morrison meant) but I have.

 – bit of a tune I just couldn’t resist putting in.

How did I do this? I hung up my glad rags and got ‘comfortable with being uncomfortable’ ( thanks Jillian Michaels for that quote) and I became the person I was probably born to be.  I do different things these days. I now get to read more, I have money to save up for my wedding and holidays. I like to do things like go to the cinema and ice skating and roller skating. Pubs bore me and so do drunk people  especially if I’m not. Except of course me, I am never bored of a drunk me. These days  I’m more of a punch-drunk character. I choose where  I roam and I find myself in much more worthy and rewarding places. Don’t get me wrong, I won’t turn  Dionysus away from my door all the time. I love a few cheeky cocktails! So he will need to leave his vino back at the grape vineyard.  I do have an addictive nature and I am on heavy medication, so I drink – as safely as possible. The initial euphoria is all I ever wanted from drink or drugs and that is all I want and need now. I know all about the chase and the chase ain’t for me any longer. I am thankful that I’m not even 34 years old yet and I’ve learned huge lessons. Now,  I have more ambition, respect, love and rather grand shit happening in my life.

I love the people who are in my life now. I love the people I connect with now. I also know they love me for me. Quirks and all.

I know we all go through shit and I am in no position to judge. Hell, if someone popped round to my house with some seriously good drugs I may be tempted to say -why not? I might not. I’m only fucking human… haha. The point being:  I would think about if I really wanted to take it or not. Weigh up the pros and cons and not become a con so quickly. Such a bad pun -I’m taking it- it is mine. 

These days I’m a rebel in other ways -I still manage to piss people off with my liberal views and non-conformist attitude to life. I realise that part of me was really me all the time. I didn’t need drugs and booze to be different or alternative. I already am. I have walked away from that life with multiple labels(inherited or not)  and I’ve been through the bullshit. I still have to put up with bullshit. These days I tend to party in the light,  in a world of sunshine and with the wind blowing. It’s a fresh kind of life, a pure ongoing festival kind of life.  Easy and breezy and I’m content with it.

  



Dreams can come true

Dreams are a subject that always confuses me. Why? It frustrates me that sometimes I can go for months (even years) without remembering any dreams. Then all of sudden they renegade me with one or two per night.

What is the first dream I remember? When I was 5 years old I had this recurring dream that my Mom got eaten by a shark and I was trying to save her. I remember my Aunt lifting me out of the water telling me that she couldn’t be saved. This dream was on a loop for some time. At the time life was stressful for us -moving around a lot, So, I could put the dream down to stress

OR

I could blame my cousin. Why?

Well, one-night my mom went out and he was designated babysitter. He had some girl with him and the movie ‘Jaws’ had just come out on videotape. I didn’t want to watch it but he forced me to. He was a bit of a jerk.  He used to call me peanut head!  I do find that rather amusing.

I don’t know how successful he was with his date that night but I’m hoping Karma had her wicked way with him and left him with blue balls- sorry cuz!

So, back to dreams.  Dreams for me conjure up vivid emotions and feelings rather than rely on visual details. My feelings and how I react in the dreams are always the strongest part of my dream that I remember.  My latest dream I was torn between feeling secure and loved to being insecure and doubtful. In the dream, my hubby-to-be was having secret conversations with a woman he knew (in the context of the dream). I decided to confront the two – This girl was trying to convince me that my hubby was in fact in love with her and always would be. My other half was quiet when she spoke but in private he told me little except she was wrong and to trust him. The dream went back and forth between feeling betrayed and thinking the girl was telling some truth. My husband showed me a piece of torn paper and he said that she was trying to blackmail him but those feelings of insecurity would not pass.

The night before that I dreamt about my Mom. She was showing me her new wool jersey dress. she goaded me telling me to stop being so jealous and that she too was entitled to happiness. I wasn’t aware of my supposed jealous emotions until she changed tactics and told me she had that exact dress but a used one. Her dress was new and never been washed with the label intact. She invited me to try her new dress on. I kept on declining and then just to shut her up I conceded and tried on the dress. I put it on. Jiggled it on more like. I felt the tightness around my waist and then went into super panic mode when I couldn’t get it off. Mom was screaming at me to not stretch or ruin her dress.

How does this dream fit into the context of my everyday consciousness? I have been worried that I’ve put on weight around my middle and I have a wedding dress that I bought in 2014 for a knock off price that fits me like a glove. No room for breathing much. I need a straw to breathe out my nose  to be honest. That is why I have been killing myself with Jillian Michaels workouts. This lady is nuts=a beaster. Every time I finish doing her workout I swear to myself I will NOT  put myself through so much pain again. Today I’m contemplating doing another session. INSANITY! All this in an effort to look like a dream-like toned wedding bride belle for 22/06/2016.

The best dreams and most intense dreams were when I was a child. I loved flying dreams. It was so real. I could feel myself soaring through the sky – grazing over pine cone trees. I was energised, fast and it was like being on some crazy high with more than mild disappointment when I woke up. I still crave those dreams like a crack addict chasing that first hit of blood vessel dilation and a 47 second rush of blood brethren to the head . Falling dreams were intense, remember those?  I remember free falling unboundedly from a great height. With a seemingly frog-like croak,  I could feel my heart leap up into my throat. I was going to flounder and land and smudge the ground with a body made of lead.  It was going to happen. The only thing that stopped that dream was I woke up.

Did I hit the ground jolting me back to consciousness? I don’t know but it was intense and an adrenaline rush. Terrifying but one I would invite back.

The craziest dreams I’ve had are the ones I swear I have been awake. One dream was when I was about 10 years old – in my bedroom, we kept the washing machine there. One night I woke up to the washing machine churning furiously. It wanted my attention. It was spinning around so fast I thought it would take off. I was paralysed. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream. I’ve had a few of these kinds of dreams in my life and they do genuinely scare me because my eyes are open and I am awake!

Sex dreams are a bit embarrassing, right?  erm…. won’t 

go into that one unless asked – Hahaha.

Anothe

r dream I had aeons ago as I heard the phone ringing. I was too lazy to pick it up. It rang and rang and rang. Eventually, I picked up the receiver and I woke up with my hand stretched up and out as if to hold a phone.  Strange surreal shit.

So does anybody else have any dreams they want to share? I have an odd feeling that pouring my sub- unconscious self onto E-paper will start a cycle of more dreams. Wish me luck.

No more sex 

dream

s, please! I feel like converting to catholicism when I have one. Do you want to have a go analysing your dreams?





My Consent.

My mind has been focused on simple acts.

I got lost in the tiniest of   fish bowls,

now I have got what I want, my mind is on detonate mode.

123  – it feels like I’ve sold almost all of my souls.

Bolivian marching powder?

No, not that kind of blow 

 I need a fix to settle these nerves.I have to take it and there are no more chances to ignore.

My very core.

Paddling with or without an  oar.

What do I know about writing?

I signed up for this,now it feels like I have sucked myself into my own suicide pact,  by leaking out the gas-

 it flows.

Riding on a high:I think I can fly.

I hit the floor -head first.

 Brain cells die.

The illusion is no more.

Clueless.

Fish have evolved and learned to  grow wings!

I’m a fallen angel, feathers  already in place.

I shouldn’t have a problem claiming my precious,  idolised rings.

Syntax.

It ain’t hard to fill out my own sin award credit tax.

Register!

Therefore, I are pilgrim -like innit mega -sir!

Noun ?

Bitch,

 fetch me my gown.

My mind is running on crazy adrenaline,

panic sets in and I am fucked if I can remember whose bed I am meant to be in.

Perspective just got  that bit closer

It punched me in the face-

Invisible fists just came at me like a ghost –

AH!

Can I do this?

I seem to always get what I want.

Except with emotional IQ situations – I kind of let that one slip into the abyss.

So, I continue to create my own destiny…

Fate is for people living in a book of dizzy ,fairy tale necessity.

I’m scared.

I feel the fear.

I’m not gonna lie.

All this sudden knowledge makes me want jump ship and  say,

‘fuck! Au revoir,  matie.   Here, you  have a go and steer.’

Fear is good.

It means I care.

Passion is good

It means I will probably fare.

So cool how I fooled my way into school.

This shit could still  just backfire-   now who’s the cool fool?

Now.

Present.

Past is a bit tense.

Future has been signed by my consent.

Got to the end – we all want a happy ending.

Sugar

I made this shit up.



Justify

Why do I justify myself to others if I’m not working in a full paid life capacity?


Why do I justify myself to others if I’m not working in a full paid life capacity?

It’s not like we’re still living in a Victorian era where I need to prove I’ve achieved my full belt in chastity.

I’m not kept nor groomed.

I’m a woman of the age of independence. When I hold my breath I think of the oceans of ambition, filling me to a combustion ends- infallibility.

Self justification.

Words to sell the people who haven’t walked a second in my shoes.

Self justification who’s never seen a man who sold ice creams on a beach with his bare arms.

No feet.

No feat.

He wouldn’t allow the cha cha dance of life to let him be the one who gave in to defeat.

Even when the sun, it melted into his ebony skin-a parched man not bitter .

Even when children mocked him with no adult to inform them they were creating a culture where we judge people by being born in breach.

These words are going nowhere unless I tell people I’m a winner regardless of the mind state – an alternative view they may one day wish to seek.

Their unbeknownst ignorance of those mountains I’ve so far climbed to be deemed fit in a society increasingly lacking in human empathy just to stay in view

To remain an arm within terre ferme reach

These are my words. This is what I wish to impart. I refuse to give up until my soul recoils from my body,

Honours it’s vow –till death do us part.

If you taunt me I’ve learned

Not to teach nor preach.

Life’s a beach.

I’m a woman of the world with nothing but reach.

Does this sound preachy ?

😉😅🤣🙄.

Ex communication of self hatred

Shun not what you fear to understand

Don’t stigmatize the most inherent part in you; what makes you human!

Embrace each emotion &feelings.

My belief is if we hide our so called darker sides makes that part of our character stronger and unbalanced

Lessen that burden, become whole:

Be the full rainbow spectrum despite what your favourite colour is…

There is more to us than nuances of shady blacks & untouched white.

We have a choice to give in to or resist emotions that merely reflect we we are in our journey in life.

No journey is stagnant

No feeling is permanent.

Why are some emotions or feelings seen as bad or good? Aren’t they all important and deserve to be felt.

Nothing is stagnant.

It’s our fundamental nature to feel.

To question.

What do we do with our emotions ?

Our feelings and thoughts , what do we do with them?

Extract what you need in moderation?

This is not a comforting answer is it?

What is your answer ?

Opium Boy

 


Ghosts floating through the mansion of my mind. It may sound like a great thing to own a mansion as a mind.

I can tell you. It is a place that never sees sunshine, there is dust everywhere, the piano remains out of tune. Every room has something magnificent  to find

Dresses in one, jewels in the other, mothers little helpers, pills scattered everywhere.

There is  always a ghost on standby ready to haunt me.. It’s like an old familiar melody.

I find no pleasure in any of these rooms. There are too many rooms, not enough signs and I am always losing myself in it.

Instead of running from my mind. I sit in the creaking rocking chair. Legs splayed,opening myself up to become possessed by anything .

They sit down on my favourite grey chaise longue and puff cigars that smell of lavender and twirl full bodied wine glasses filled  with  a deep maroon Beaujolais or à châteauneuf de pap.

I seem unable to move. I can’t move. If I could just ask them to leave .

One places a daisy chain on my head and tops up my glass of southern comfort. I’m sure I have stopped drinking. They know this as well as I do.

The irony is they are trying to make me live again. Drink if you must- anything to live, they urge….

This is their home. How can I cast them out?

They drain me, yes it is true, but they have been a part of my life, guarding me  when I was still  growing in my mothers womb.

I let them stay,

“SIT DOWN”., I say

Foreplay remnants stain the sheets on the various four poster beds. There is a new guy in town.

Has a bit of an opium habit. He hides away from everyone ,including me.

I have become desperate in my misery,

I seek him out .He won’t show himself.

I beg him to show me how. He can write the directions on a paper……

I think he cares. He doesn’t want me to go that far down.

 I think if I am so far down  the dragon’s pit;chasing ,what is a few more inches to the bottom?

Isn’t the bottom or top better than half way neither up or down?

I think he hid the ouija board too. He doesn’t want to be summoned because my will will break his……

In all honesty I think they all  want the best for me. Oh of course they have their own agenda’s too.

They know how down I am but they need to go on outings too. They get bored so I  get to be their cruise liner- my eyes are  their oval windows ,to peer out of, their   mode of transport, that shows them life still carries on  even if they can’t be an active  part of it.. ..

They called me a party pooper today. Sounds a bit lame.

They held a special party for me.

My least favourite party of all times- they all congregated in my drawing  room whistling and pulling crackers and the incessant chatter nearly drove me out of the house.

Usually, the louder they are the quicker I try to escape – This time they lucked out. They will not help me find Opium boy.

I only want to escape with him.

I will continue to follow his musky scent until another scent sends my pulse quickening.

Another ghost starts to ask:

“Why do you want to be dead when your heart still beats?”

“Oh fuck off and cross over – you can live in my mansion of a mind but I will not be questioned – my mind my rules.”  I reply

If I  had gone would I have lost the scent of Opium boy?

Would I have cared?

Usually when I chase a boy that needs saving , I get into trouble….

Eulogising Tatiana

Today ,I wasn’t prepared though my gut knew better than to be not blase but scared.

A fleeting hope that the healers could give you a boost

The hardest decision was to accept that your time was up.I had to cut you loose.

I’m numb, guilty, wishing I had you for a few more nights.

Allowing your sorrowful suffocating soul seconds more would add to this punishing plight & dreams of death – faeces, dead babies, deer, filthy flies and discarded driftwood souls drunk on flotsam

Waived inner strength; sight to ignite a courageous carcass of hope

Never mind , my Tatiana. You breathe free , unleashed from the God’s who wouldn’t let you rest.

You were too remarkable to ignore.

Your status has soared

A wing span of your choice.

These words don’t do justice

I love you

This is your eulogy

An ode to your life with no apology.

So cold,

so sweet ,

so fair…

Life and death

The mortal twins

The janus of the past , the future

You -the  triplet was my greatest  moment of

present present.