Self-care is something that gives you pleasure and nourishes your body, spirit and mind.
- an experimental piece I wrote inspired by the existential Japanese philosophy- Wabisabi
Does it need to be said
Because the Media makes you think your make up is inappropriate?
If you are horrified to ask Google for mental health support
You know I’m hear to tell it — (once )’for a cause not for an applause’
To avoid the pariah of your mind.
Who you are is important for your wellbeing
Beautiful you are because of your malaise.
Its about what you think.
A unique template for peace of mind.
Alone-thoughts are you,
And yours together.
Others’ opinions must dance alone with their shadows.
Fathoming the world is relative to your state
Diagrams and graphic diagnostics aren’t “normal”!
Merely for inferences and academic utterances.
Your Beauty is personified by playful events racing around your head.
Love it like you love…
Those who have numbers and words yet can’t calculate when there’s enough unsaid.
Needs are experiences.
Feelings are needs…
Interpret the world through the vessel of your spirited Self.
When skies hang drab
Do you dazzle because you can see a scattered horizon of hope — as a possibility ?
When the Others tether connections
Tumble into an abyss —
Can you see their limits ?
Allow them to be.
Is your world subject to scrutiny because of how you interpret human nature?
Do you deviate from society’s accusations of what is the trending status quo?
What if the box you live in is… outside?
What if you build a bridge
Bearing a cross
Over to acceptable taboos ?
Breath prescribed by an arched smile.
Diagnose yourself Beautiful- because of your laments.
Before time becomes an absolute Obsession
Forecasting the outcome to the finale to the play of ‘This is your Life’.
Take moments to repose.
Free yourself from the expectation
To be your career
To win over the Marvel comic genderless hero.
Deprecate your expectations to finance your inner Happiness resources.
This entity is inside your realm of Consciousness — restless
Trodden and stamped into a standing pose.
Moments of reflection pace
Forwards then backwards
Are you what you want to be?
Can you begin a journey if you don’t understand where you are at?
Certainly living up to some other lifer’s calculation should
Pause your being into a statuesque introspection.
To dismiss your guttural instincts will unravel you at the seams— out-thread you out of your very own mind.
Success comes from mapping out your own directions.
Hopeful-to wake up to another day of understanding ‘This is your Life’.
Your ability to comprehend, foreshadows your failed attempts to claw out of the darkest pit.
Sounds of the ocean lap to your melody.
Nothing that you feel about Today
Can conceive the trembling murmurs cut off from the guillotine of your Sanity.
In all of your figurements…are you determined to act out your suicides because you fear your inability to state your arousel ?
Who you are
Is that wrong?
Thoughts pre empt if everything is filled in with Leftism.
Dismiss you have the good view
Change your world
Refuse every thing
That threatens your Passions —
That provokes beta beatings whistling out of tune.
Precious notions find a sense of disambiguation before the matter resolves itself.
Do you tell others to respond to what you fail to question?
Where is the perversity in watching the death of your inner Flinch — to conclude this delusion ?
What if you won’t be the canvas that contains an abstract spectrum fading you out of very own Self ?
Look on at those who shrink into their frames bled of every shade of hues
Is this what you want?
Writing prompt -Scars
One scar I have is huge – it almost wraps all the way around my upper wrist -it is 2-3 cm wide. Indented, It reminds me of a dried upriver.
Before I continue…
Domestic abuse & Toxic relationships
Rape -NO means NO.
I’m going to state the obvious here.
Domestic violence is a relationship fucks about with your mental health, whether you love the person or not.
Toxic relationships have usually tipped me over into using shitty coping mechanisms like drinking too much, taking drugs, overdosing and not managing my medication or my eating disorder and Bipolar.
So back to the blood river scar.
One night- no
Another night of heavy drinking and arguing, I found me in a house -not mine- that looked like a slaughterhouse. all dirty browns. There was a rusty scent of blood impossible to ignore.
Every time I inhaled, the scent would drip down the back of my throat like a tap -I could taste it too.
I had mixed copious amounts of alcohol with my medication and all I remember is trying to push my ex away with my left hand ( I am left-handed), he grabbed my arm and I struggled back.
a massive shard of re-enforced window glass- barbered- poking out of my right arm.
the back of my exes legs and back running up the stairs.
WHERE IS THE ORANGE JUICE?
WHERE IS THE GLASS?
WHERE IS MY EX?
An arm coated thick with blood. I wear it like an accessory
Blood makes noise.
I hear screaming.
Ex reappears and tries to grab me.
I try to run away.
I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE.
Why is my ex naked?
In the middle of the street?
Rolling on the floor with me- trying to muffle my screams with his hand. Trying to stop me from running away...
MIND FUCKERY at its best.
“Look what you have done…” ex says.
6 hours later – location: hospital.
The doctor asks to speak with me in private. My ex doesn’t want to leave my side.
I don’t say anything. quack quack! quack quack! quack quack! the word on a loop…
“What happened?” he wants to know.
“We don’t know. We were drinking. I can’t remember. It was an accident.” my ex speaks for us.
My head bows down,it almost appears as if I am nodding. I can’t quite remember.
What I do remember feels like I have made it up, it is so detached from my mind and emotions. It is about as close to me as Pluto or Saturn.
3 days in hospital my ex never left my side.
Not even to go home to wash or brush his teeth.
I wasn’t alone- my mother was with us too.
I was high on morphine for the pain.
Why didn’t they operate sooner?
Did they want to monitor me?
three days later… I’m being wheeled on the hospital bed- away from the stale, coughing ward…
“countback with me from 10,” says the anaesthetist.
“ 10 , 9 ,8 ……“
“1”. my eyes burst open. I gasp a breath. It is like I’ve been living in a homemade sac filled with half shallow water and half air.
I look down at the artwork the surgeon has done.
No more blood.
re-stuffed re-patched, recovered,
by a micro surgical hand.
Back to the carnival freak show.
I enter his home – a massacre.
Dry blood everywhere.
If only it could serve as a reminder of what actually happened that night.
“I don’t remember” the ex says.
How can he and I not know?
Every time I look at my scar I am reminded of the chaos that was my life for 4 years.
This scar says –
This scar reminds me to NEVER be silent in the name of so-called love or a sense of loyalty to one who claimed to love me so much he would do anything to keep me.
When I left him, I did not take his threats seriously.
What he did next gave serious competition with the scar I see.
That everyone can see.
Toxic relationships result in a severe loss – sometimes that means your life.
Think carefully about what and who your life may include.
I was reborn again on the 06/05/2015.
The day the court ordered social services out of my life.
The day that my ex turned his back on me, is the day I realised I had been holding my breath for years.
I had forgotten how to breathe. I might have been dead- a wanderer.
06/05/2015 -I remembered not only how to breathe again but why.
Life -not just my own but that who is of me.
Life is precious
Life is my responsibility